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A MEMORIAL 




PAUL JOSEPH REVERE 


AND 


EDWARD H. R. REVERE 


PRIVATELY PRINTED, 1874 
REPRINTED, 1913 





THE W. J. COULTER PRESS 
CLINTON, MASS. 


















7A//J6- 


\ 

TO THE YOUNGER GENERATION 

I have had this book reprinted and the 
pictures added, with the hope that it may 
keep alive in the minds and hearts of you 
all the knowledge of what the war meant, and 
what our fathers and your grandfathers and 
great uncles did for their country fifty years 
ago. 

PAULINE REVERE THAYER. 

1913 









. 






































MEMOIR 


It is not easy to write the life of a 
young man. If in any way remarkable, 
whatever may be said seems, from one 
point of view, to indicate what he might 
have been, had a longer career on earth 
been permitted, rather than what he was. 
But regarding the matter in another and 
a more religious light, considering that 
every life is admirably finished, and every 
work well done, that has carried out the 
purposes of Heaven, we see how the dis¬ 
cipline and development of youth dis¬ 
covers subjects of importance for our 
thoughts; and we turn back to remem¬ 
ber more particularly what has happened 
in this brief time. 

Paul Joseph Revere, the fourth son of 
Mary and Joseph Warren Revere, was 
born in Boston the 10th of September, 
1832. He was named Paul for his Grand - 



6 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


father Revere, and Joseph for his father, 
and was christened on the day that his 
grandfather would have been one hundred 
years old. 

This narrative of his life must be 
slight and imperfect, only touching upon 
the most important incidents and points 
of character, with what help may be de¬ 
rived from the events of the day, and 
from his mother’s journal, and his own 
letters and those of his friends. His 
mother says: “Paul has left with his 
friends so high an idea of his character as 
to make it unsatisfactory to attempt to 
delineate it; knowing, as I do, that one 
must fail in expressing half his worth or 
his importance to his family, or his value 
to the world. But words are the only 
means of conveying to his children an 
idea of the power he possessed, and of 
setting before them the facts of his life.” 

It is interesting to trace the spirit of a 
remote ancestry in the varying fortunes 
of descendants. A little observation 
often leads one to refer some striking 
quality that has made a man conspicuous, 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


7 


to the influence of noted circumstances 
upon a distant projenitor. This may be 
true in the case of the subject of this 
sketch. He was removed by only three 
generations from a family of Huguenots 
named Rivoire, who on the revocation of 
the Edict of Nantes by Louis XIV., in 
1685, fled from their home at St. Foy to 
the island of Guernsey in the British 
Channel, off the coast of Normandy, 
where they might enjoy the exercise of 
their religion safe from the alarms of 
persecution and war. Here, we can well 
imagine, in their steadfast resistance to 
oppression, and in the energy which at 
last secured an asylum for their liberty of 
opinion, may be found a clew to those 
prominent traits which have been recog¬ 
nized on this side of the Atlantic, and in 
the possession of which he of whom we 
now write had a decided share. 

A boy of thirteen years, called Apollos 
Rivoire, was sent to America in 1715, by 
an uncle prosperous in mercantile affairs, 
who recommended to his correspondent 
that he should be put to the goldsmith’s 


8 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


trade. It would appear that the family 
were in a good position at home in France, 
as letters from this merchant, and from 
another member of the family, a lawyer, 
prove them to have been educated people. 
At twenty-one he returned to Guernsey to 
visit his relatives, but decided to make 
America his home. He followed the gold - 
smith’s business, aud altered his name to 
Paul Revere; and in course of time he 
married Deborah Hitchborn of Boston, 
by whom he had several children, one of 
whom was Col. Paul Revere of Revolu¬ 
tionary memory. 

Colonel Revere was born in 1735, 
and was brought up to his father’s busi¬ 
ness. In 1757 he married Sarah Orne, 
who died young, leaving six children. 
After a few months, his household being 
in sore need of a mother’s care, he mar¬ 
ried again a very excellent and charming 
woman, Rachael Walker, by whom he 
had eight children, four of whom sur¬ 
vived their parents. Colonel Revere was 
in the Royal army in 1756, serving under 
Colonel Gridley at Crown Point as second 



REVERE MEMORIAL 


9 


lieutenant. From that time, when he 
was but twenty-one, he was remarkable 
for his judgment, energy, and influence. 
He was associated with the leading men 
of the day in all the important matters of 
that stirring time. With a large family 
to support, he yet found leisure and 
abundant spirit for all public interests. 
With well-considered, settled opinions, 
his will was strong; while his general 
gifts rendered him competent to great 
emergencies, and equal to great events. 
The result was, that, in a crisis like that 
of rousing the people to conflict on the 
eve of the first struggle for our independ¬ 
ence, he was the wise counsellor at home, 
and the daring actor in the field. Colonel 
Revere was quick in perceiving the strik¬ 
ing features of the hour, with a ready 
genius to portray them, which made him 
the off-hand artist of many caricatures 
intended to bring ridicule upon the enemy, 
and the author of various sketches of in¬ 
teresting scenes of which he was an eye¬ 
witness. He designed the bills of the 
Continental money, and engraved them 


10 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


with his own hand. His practical skill 
was also turned to good account in the 
casting of guns for the use of our army 
during the Revolution. He remained in 
the service of the country throughout the 
war, leaving his wife to direct and pro¬ 
vide for his large family. He lived to the 
advanced age of eighty-four years. 

The oldest son of Colonel Revere’s 
second wife was Joseph Warren Revere, 
named for Dr. Joseph Warren, afterwards 
the Major-General Warren, killed at 
Bunker Hill, the intimate friend of Col¬ 
onel Revere, “one of the shining lights of 
these colonies, and the first great martyr 
to the national cause.” 

Mr. Revere was born soon after the 
first general rising to arms, while his 
father was away in the army, and lived 
until October, 1868, being nearly ninety- 
two years old. 

As he grew into manhood, and was 
called upon to assume its responsibilities, 
he entered the business which his father 
had established, and by degrees took the 
lead in, and management of, its affairs. 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


11 


To him it was given, by his enterprise and 
care, to relieve his parents of all worldly 
anxiety in their declining years; and he 
remained a blessing in their household as 
long as they lived. 

Mr. Revere married in 1821, gathered 
about him new and varied interests and 
connections, was the head and blessing of 
another household, and educated a large 
family. This much, at least, is of mo¬ 
ment with regard to Paul’s name and 
descent in the line of the Reveres. 

On his mother’s side he was also con¬ 
nected, as on his father’s, with highly 
intelligent and influential people. 

His maternal grandfather, Edward 
Hutchinson Robbins, was for many years 
in political life, and held the office of 
Judge of Probate for Norfolk County 
through a long term of years, and was 
always the honored friend and counsellor 
of the country round. He lived to the 
age of seventy-two, leaving a memory 
rich in private virtues, in happy social 
qualities, and in wide labors for the pub¬ 
lic good. His father was Rev. Nathaniel 


12 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


Robbins, the minister of Milton parish for 
fifty years. His mother was Elizabeth 
Hutchinson, a near relative of the gov¬ 
ernor of Massachusetts of that name. 
His wife was Miss Elizabeth Murray, 
whose father came from Scotland, and 
settled in North Carolina before the Rev¬ 
olution. She was of a family of Murrays 
that still are to be found in Scotland, liv¬ 
ing on the old place called Philliphaugh. 
Judge Robbins lived at Brush Hill, in 
Milton, where the homestead is still owned 
and occupied by his son, Hon. James M. 
Robbins. 

With this brief mention of his ances¬ 
try, we will now turn to the immediate 
subject of this memoir. 

Of his boyhood Paul’s mother writes, 
“He was a very fine child. Early in life 
he took an idea so clearly that I was often 
surprised. I remember his waking one 
morning when he was about five years 
old, in my room, where the rising sun 
shone in, and saying, ‘I will get up and 
ride over to see my Aunt Maria on the 
sun.’ It seemed to me to show quite a 




REVERE MEMORIAL 


13 


remarkable conception of what he had 
been told,—that his aunt, Mrs. Balestier, 
lived at Singapore, the other side of the 
world. Again, at seven years old, he 
staid out one day longer than I expected. 
I asked him where he had been. ‘In the 
graveyard,’ he said, 4 looking at a funeral.’ 
4 Did it not make you feel badly to see itV 
I asked. 4 No,’ he replied. 4 1 knew the 
man had gone to heaven. It was only his 
body there. ’ ” 44 His will was very strong, 
and made him difficult at times to man¬ 
age.” But all that is implied by this is, 
that he was high-spirited, unwilling to be 
forced, but easily persuaded and led by 
his affections. 

There was always something about 
Paul from early years that led to a fond 
degree of consideration in the family. 
What Paul said or did, or failed to do, 
may have been of more than usual note 
then, as it always was later, not only at 
home, but among his playfellows and 
friends. He showed as a child no pre¬ 
cocity in the way of books; neither was 
there a special backwardness on his part 


14 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


in the little studies common to his age. 
He liked poetry,—both to learn it, and to 
have it read to him. His mother says 
that when he was going away to school 
for the first time, he said to her, “I shall 
want Mrs. Hemans, and I cannot carry 
that great volume.” She gave him a 
small one instead; and it may be imag¬ 
ined how, as all boys of that day did, he 
pored over the story of u Casabianca,” 
and u Bernardo del Carpio,” and the like, 
or gave himself up to the music of the 
gentler verse. His memory must have 
been good; for all through his life he 
would at odd moments throw out snatches 
of songs and hymns that were the delight 
of this careless time. 

His summers were spent in the country 
at Canton, Mass., where his father had a 
home in the neighborhood of the copper- 
works. The Neponset River runs through 
the grounds, bordered by woods and rocks 
and pleasant fields. There was the begin - 
ning of Paul’s love of nature and country 
life. A boy a little older than himself 
was employed to wander around with him; 



REVERE MEMORIAL 


15 


and so it was those charming hours of idle 
youth went by. 

When he was eight years old, it 
seemed important that this holiday life in 
summer should be somewhat changed, 
and that he should be brought under a 
measure of school discipline and into the 
methods of regular instruction. It was 
decided, therefore, to send him to Milton, 
the next town to Canton, to live with a 
Mrs. Grile, the widow of a former minis¬ 
ter of the place, and a friend of the family, 
where he would still be within easy access 
of home, and able to attend the academy 
daily. His school-days in Milton, con¬ 
tinuing through two summers, may have 
afforded to those who had the care of the 
academy few indications of his future 
dignity and force, and left them little to 
say, but that he was bright and well 
enough for his years. 

It is evident, however, that his mother 
was alive to the promise which was after¬ 
wards so well fulfilled. She writes of his 
going to Milton, “It was a great struggle 
on my part to let him go, lest some wrong 


10 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


impression should come to him. He was 
a great favorite among his companions in 
the town, and led in all their doings. 

“I went to Milton to tell him of the 
death of a boy he had loved, and said, 4 1 was 
afraid you would feel very much the death 
of Franky,’ who was killed by a gun. ‘I 
saw it in the paper,’ was his answer, ‘but 
I would not believe it was he.’ He car¬ 
ried through life this habit of requiring 
evidence for a fact. He could not believe 
current stories without abundant proof. 
I copy,” she adds, “ an extract from my 
diary when I parted with him: ‘I feel 
him to be a great treasure, and fear some¬ 
thing may influence him unfavorably. I 
am sure under good impressions he will 
make a superior man.’ ” 

Two years passed with little to mark 
them here. In the winter of 1842 Paul 
attended Mr. Brooks’s school in Boston. 
During the next four years he was pre¬ 
paring for college, under various instruc¬ 
tion in the city,—not showing any special 
gift, and seldom standing in near relations 
to his teachers. At fourteen he went to 





REVERE MEMORIAL 


17 


Dorchester into Doctor Davis’s family,— 
a man of high attainments, who, beyond 
caring for his studies, directed his read¬ 
ing, and treated him as a companion, 
making his work pleasant to him. In 
1848, when he was sixteen, he entered 
Harvard College. 

Dp to this time, there had been no 
want with him of friends among those of 
his own age. Indeed, he held close com¬ 
panionship with a large circle of lively 
boys, who looked to him as their leader, 
accustomed to refer their little matters of 
interest to his choice and decision, and 
who felt that no play could go on and no 
plan be carried out as well without him 
as if he were at hand to cheer and help. 
The house was not unfrequently overrun 
from morning till night with some of 
these intimates, who loved Paul dearly, 
and felt his influence for good. His per¬ 
sonal strength and activity enabled him 
to be among the foremost, without effort, 
in the manifold enterprises which stirring 
boys attempt; and his judgment in diffi¬ 
culties, and skill in games, were acknowl- 


18 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


edged and admired by his fellows. Boys 
are quick to discern the qualities fit for 
a leader, and yield to their power gladly; 
and their opinion is usually sustained, as 
in this case, by a similar recognition and 
approval in a larger range of experience 
as the years go on. In a notice that ap¬ 
peared in a daily paper after Paul’s death, 
written by one of these early and constant 
friends, this sense of his influence is thus 
strongly expressed: ‘ 4 When a boy, in 

that truest of republics, the playground, 
his companions instinctively recognized 
in him a leader. There that keen sense 
of justice, which seemed to be part and 
parcel of him, was so conspicuous that he 
was the well-known umpire in the boyish 
disputes of his companions; and we 
fondly recall the often used expression, 
‘I’ll leave it to Paul,’—an arbitration 
which was, we believe, always assented 
to by the other party of the dispute; and 
we may add that we do not remember one 
case where the equity of his decision was 
not acknowledged and supported by the 
majority of his playmates.” 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


19 


From school to college is a short step. 
But the change in life is great. One car¬ 
ries with him there a character in the 
process of being formed, and finds an 
entirely new field for development and 
growth. There is larger freedom, wider 
opportunities, higher privileges, every 
thing at hand for education, for general 
experience of a literary kind, and for 
social entertainment. A boy just sliding 
into youth falls easily into the duties for 
which he has a gift, and into the compan¬ 
ionship for which he has a taste; and he 
uses his talents and unfolds his nature 
under the most favorable circumstances. 
Temptations and trials there are to meet 
him, but not at all more than those which 
young men have to encounter in other 
lines of a roving or business life. His 
studies are refining, so far as he pursues 
them; and his employments are adapted 
to his position and his probable place in 
the world. If he desires class distinction 
and liberal attainment, he gives himself 
up steadily to books; and if he desires an 
easy course, and looks forward to no pro- 


20 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


fession but that of a cultivated gentleman, 
the way is open for him to choose his 
friends, who may be his friends for life, 
and to go on as far as it pleases him in de¬ 
partments of science or literature,— an 
interest in which will always insure him 
a certain esteem and consideration in the 
world. 

As Paul had been at school, so he con¬ 
tinued at Cambridge. Never having been 
used to much application, he did not turn 
over an entirely new leaf when he went 
to college. He did his work as well as 
many, but gave himself to the general 
advantages of the time rather than to its 
particular instruction and stricter disci¬ 
pline. His mother’s statement is, that 
“his life at Cambridge was more marked 
for strength of character, and the power 
of influence, than for the love of study. 
He had good taste, and enjoyed books.” 
That is, he was still a leader among his 
associates,—respected and admired; and 
a reader rather than a student, and very 
likely even at that early age more of a 
thinker than a reader—not getting through 




REVERE MEMORIAL 


21 


many books, but pondering a few, And 
when books tired him, he had his own 
way of arriving at a knowledge of men 
and things by habits of observation, which 
he had always practised, and which were 
of the greatest service to him afterwards, 
when he came into more serious contact 
with the world. 

One who heard him recite for a few 
weeks, in making up a part of his course 
in rhetoric, says of him, “Paul used to 
come to my room at certain hours, with 
his book under his arm, and entering with 
a most easy, gentlemanly air, would seem 
to throw the responsibility of the matter 
entirely on me. He was there, not to 
recite, but to keep an appointment. For 
the mere text-book he appeared to care 
nothing, and to deem it of small account. 
I generally thought that he had not looked 
at his task, and therefore tried to give 
him an idea of the subject, page after 
page, that he might not be wholly defi¬ 
cient; and in this way I found, that, 
while of 4 Campbell’s Rhetoric’ he was 
quite ignorant, he knew enough of the 


22 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


subject, and had opinions of his own 
sufficient to make him equal to the full 
expression of his views upon any subject 
that he was called to write or speak of.” 

A portion of Paul’s class, some of 
whom were his personal friends, were far 
more inclined to entertain themselves in 
their college life than be devoted to study; 
and a spirit of lawlessness had pervaded 
the class before the final outbreak of fun 
and disorder, which ended in Paul’s sus¬ 
pension for six months of his sophomore 
year. This was a time of trial, and yet 
it was by no means without a good influ¬ 
ence upon him. He never felt the pun¬ 
ishment was unjust; but, in the months 
that followed, he endeavored to apply 
himself more earnestly to study than ever 
before. He spent this time in Rev. Dr. 
Lunt’s family of Quincy, where he 
secured the friendly regard of a most 
intelligent, cultivated man. 

The last two years of his course at 
Cambridge passed without any thing es¬ 
pecially to mark them. New friendships 
were formed, some of them among the 






REVERE MEMORIAL 


23 


pleasantest of his life. He gained a 
knowledge, that was valuable, of men 
and things. If he took no high rank for 
scholarship, he was in no way wanting in 
the practical information fitted to his age, 
that would be important to a man of 
general affairs. He graduated with the 
respect and affection of his class, which 
was abundantly manifest in the sorrow 
expressed at the time of his death. 

The following resolutions were passed 
at a meeting of his class, held July 15, 
1863: — 

Resolved, That called upon for the fourth time, 
by the death of Paul Joseph Revere, to record 
an offering of the Class of 1852 of one of her brav¬ 
est and best to the cause of our country, we desire 
to express our profound sorrow, and our sense of 
the loss we have sustained. 

While we have followed with a proud interest 
the career of our classmate, on the Potomac, in 
the prisons of Richmond, through the blood¬ 
stained fields of the Peninsula, at the hard-fought 
fight of Antietam, and finally at the head of his 
regiment in repelling the recent invasion of the 
North, we have recognized in his calm courage, his 
persistent fortitude, and his heroic self-sacrifice 


24 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


at the call of patriotism, honor, and duty, the 
qualities fittest for the time and the cause. 

In recurring to the memories of our pleasant 
college-days, we shall cherish the recollection of 
Revere as one, who for simple manliness, for 
contempt of all that was false or mean, for cheer¬ 
fulness and equability of temper, for desire to 
promote peace and good-will, and for a strict sense 
of justice and the right, stood among the foremost. 

Aware of Revere’s domestic virtues, of the 
pleasures of the home he left when the Nation 
summoned him to her service, and of the affection 
which as a son, brother, husband, and father, he 
bestowed and received, we desire to communicate 
to his bereaved family our deepest sympathy with 
their affliction. 

Resolved , That these resolutions stand upon 
our records as a testimony of our grief at the loss 
which has been suffered by us, by our classmate’s 
family, and many friends, and by the Country in 
her hour of need, as well as of our pride that a 
life so noble and so complete has been crowned by 
an end so glorious. 

July 28, 1863. 

My Dear Mrs. Revere, —I must ask your in¬ 
dulgence for an accidental delay in the transmis¬ 
sion of the enclosed resolutions passed by our 
class on Commencement Day. 

While we should shrink from even appearing 




REVERE MEMORIAL 


25 


to intrude upon your sorrow at a time like this, 
we cannot help wishing to say to you how much 
we loved and esteemed Paul while he lived, and 
how dearly we shall cherish his memory. 

Of our sympathy you need no assurance, and 
words would seem very feeble. We can only hope 
that you will be sustained, if not consoled, in your 
grief, by your recollections of a life that embraced 
so much for which it was well to live, and your 
pride in a death for a cause best worth the dying. 

On behalf of the class and of myself, I am 
Ever faithfully and respectfully yours, 

S. Lothrop Thorndike. 

A friend, writing of Paul at this time, 
recalls u his tall, slender figure, yet well 
developed, with signs of great strength 
and endurance, and the air of one who 
had grown fast, to whom it was a little of 
a weariness, sometimes, to carry about 
his unaccustomed size. Not that he was 
awkward or heavy in the least; but there 
was an easy, lazy way with him then, 
when there was nothing to call for alert¬ 
ness or vigor, very characteristic. This, 
together with an imperturbable manner 
when he pleased, and a silence not at all 
shy or dull, but owing to a natural prudent 


20 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


reserve, and a proper indifference to ordi¬ 
nary talk, and a quiet humor that enjoyed 
immensely the fun and nonsense in his 
way, rendered him noticeable and inter¬ 
esting at a period of youth when most gay 
fellows are so uneasy and full of words. 
I remember seeing him in the streets of 
Cambridge, an undergraduate, not in any 
marked degree handsome, except as to his 
form, yet drawing attention by his gentle¬ 
manly air, which was that of one who 
understood himself and others, and who 
would find his place, or make it, in the 
world. And so it was afterwards. He 
was never out of place, but filled his posi¬ 
tion gracefully and well, wherever he 
might be,— whether loitering in the coun¬ 
try, or occupied with city interests. Amid 
the trials of the camp noted for his disci¬ 
pline, and in the perils of the fight among 
the foremost of the brave, it was the same 
unassuming, high-toned, well-appointed 
gentleman you saw and heard of, and 
could not help admiring from first to last. ’ ’ 
If there were some familiar records of 
college clubs, societies, and friendships, 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


27 


to refer to, there might be a better idea 
formed of Paul’s course at Cambridge, as 
has been intimated, than can be given 
here. But such reminiscences are seldom 
forthcoming. It is little considered, at 
the time, that the social meetings and the 
daily intercourse of this happy period may 
be of any interest beyond the moment. 
Yet early life often gives the keynote of 
all that is to come. 

As a member of the Hasty Pudding 
and Porcellian Clubs, we may believe that 
Paul contributed his share of spirit and 
merriment to those pleasant occasions. 
Full of apt conversation, humor, and 
anecdote, appropriate to his age, he ap¬ 
peared at such times, perhaps, his best. 

In the summer before he left college, 
he started with a friend for Moosehead 
Lake and the wild region beyond. Left 
by his companion near the lake, he fol¬ 
lowed his original plan; taking an Indian 
guide and a canoe, and penetrating the 
forests as far as the source of the Saco,— 
a point which it was said a white man had 
never reached before. His stories of this 


28 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


new experience, his descriptions of the 
scenery, and the occasional glimpses he 
gave, unawares, into his own nature, rich 
with happy tastes and resources, were 
very entertaining. 

In the same line of outdoor enterpise 
and recreation, he made two or three trips 
with one or more friends to the Adiron¬ 
dack Mountains, spending weeks at a 
time, each year, camping out, hunting, 
living upon game, learning new lessons of 
nature, developing his powers, and laying 
up a store of fresh and useful memories. 
He was a proficient in the arts pertaining 
to this sort of life, and went prepared 
with nice arrangements and little com¬ 
forts,— the outfit needful for emergencies, 
—and usually brought home a saddle of 
venison that he could tell the history of, 
or, as a trophy, the head of a deer with 
branching horns, which was preserved 
and kept. One of these he hung over the 
mantlepiece of his little room at home, 
where he spent so many hours of his 
opening manhood. His hunting - knife 
was given to one who delighted in these 








REVERE MEMORIAL 


29 


pastimes with him, his hunting-cap to 
another. And so, with these gentle rem¬ 
iniscences, we come to the end of his 
favored youth. It was a bright page to 
look back upon; and he was never tired 
of turning to its enjoyments, to catch 
anew something of its light-heartedness 
as he went forward into the path of a 
more responsible life,— a life, indeed, in 
which, as has been well said, he filled a 
very large place in the comparatively 
small sphere of home, and of those who 
knew and loved him. 

In the summer of 1854, soon after he 
was twenty-one, he went on a trip to 
Lake Superior. His father wished him 
to inform himself with respect to the cop¬ 
per region there; and his love of adven¬ 
ture, combined with a useful object, made 
the expedition, for the most part, a de¬ 
lightful one to him. It was here, however, 
that he met with an experience which 
threw a shade of sadness over the whole 
memory of that time. 

He had spent a month favorably for 


30 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


his undertaking, and had crossed the lake 
with two gentlemen interested in the 
same affairs, to visit the mines with them. 
On their return, arriving at the shore, 
they found there was a high wind, and 
the lake like a disturbed sea. These three 
gentlemen were expected to take an open 
boat, with two ordinary boatmen of the 
country to manage it, for a sail of many 
hours. Paul said, u This is against my 
j udgment. Let us wait. ” The reply was, 
“You have no experience in this matter. 
We must go; and you will do as you like. ’ ’ 
He took off his boots, and all clothing but 
a close under-suit, putting his handker¬ 
chief and his watch and compass in the 
bosom of his shirt. One of the gentlemen 
(Kershaw) lay down in the bottom of the 
boat, and slept. On rounding a point a 
few miles from their starting-place, the 
boat capsized, and all were thrown out. 
Paul saw the men sinking about him, and 
begged Doctor Pratt to hold on to the 
boat, but he thought he could swim. Paul 
saw him sink, and dived after him. Upon 
reaching the surface, he found him dead, 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


31 


and the other man gone, with one of the 
boatmen. Only one was left, clinging to 
the bottom of the boat. Paul said, u Gret 
on to it, and I can save you.” The man 
answered, “It is no use; you don’t know 
the lake.” With a tone of authority, 
Paul ordered him to do as he was told; 
and the man obeyed. Securing a hold of 
the boat, Paul then began swimming, and 
in that way reached the shore, being in 
the water more than an hour. Of course 
he could rest, floating meanwhile. The 
feeling that the life of a human being was 
in his hands, under Heaven, stimulated 
him to new exertions; for he had to con¬ 
tend with a strange indifference with 
regard to himself. Often, too, he was 
obliged to rouse this poor fellow, begin¬ 
ning to doze in his prayers. The man 
knew the best place to land, and told him 
there were loggers in the woods he could 
guide him to. At length they reached 
the shore, entirely exhausted. The boat¬ 
man sank insensible on the beach, and for 
a moment it was all desolation for Paul. 
Looking at the boat, he saw his outside 


32 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


coat hanging under a seat, where it had 
caught. Eagerly he regained it, remem¬ 
bering the flask that was in the pocket. 
It was still there. He poured some brandy 
into the mouth of the man, and rolled 
him in the sand until he revived. The 
strain upon both mind and body had been 
so great, that he had no power at first to 
move. At length, however, a little rested, 
before sundown they started through the 
woods for the loggers’ camp, where they 
finally arrived, but not until his handker¬ 
chief had been used up in binding his 
bleeding feet. There they were kindly 
cared for, as far as it was possible, and 
remained over one day. Paul deeply felt 
the painful task before him, of going to 
Eagle Head to tell the young wife of Doc¬ 
tor Pratt of his fate. 

A correspondent of “The New-York 
Times” gives the following account of 
this occurrence: — 

“Revere of Boston, Mr. Kershaw, a 
clerk, and Dr. Pratt, a physician to the 
Minnesota mine, left Portage Lake for 




REVERE MEMORIAL 


33 


Eagle River. On reaching Lake Superior 
they found a severe gale blowing, and a 
heavy sea tumbling in from the lake. It 
was with much difficulty they launched 
the canoe through the surf. But once 
out, and the wind subsiding, they ran 
rapidly and safely some six miles; but 
when abreast a bold, rocky shore, where 
the reef makes out a mile and a half, the 
wind suddenly freshened. A high sea 
broke over the reef, instantly swamping 
the canoe, which at the same moment 
capsized, throwing all out to some dis¬ 
tance. Mr. Kershaw and the younger 
boatman, unable to swim, sank immedi¬ 
ately. The other three, regaining the 
canoe, clung to its side. Soon Dr. Pratt, 
a powerful swimmer, thinking he could 
reach the shore, struck off, but suddenly 
went down within half a mile of the canoe. 
Mr. Revere and Robiscault, the elder 
boatman, after clinging two hours to the 
canoe, regained the shore. To Mr. Re- 
vere’s courage and presence of mind is 
due both his own and Robiscault’s preser¬ 
vation; and had Dr. Pratt followed his 


34 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


entreaties, and remained by the boat, he 
might also have been saved. 

“Robiscault, an old boatman and an 
aged man, repeatedly gave up all hope, 
and was with difficulty persuaded to main - 
tain his hold, and says he owes his life to 
the persuasions and constant assurances 
of Mr. Revere, that they would reach the 
land in safety. He relates, that, holding 
on himself to one end of the canoe, Mr. 
Revere grasped the thwarts at the other, 
and, throwing himself on his back, swam 
the frail bark with rapid and undeviating 
course to land, distant a mile and a half, 
and finally dragged him, half unconscious, 
on the beach. The bodies of the three 
unfortunate men have since been recov¬ 
ered.” 

Few young men, indeed, few men of 
any age, have met a greater trial of their 
faith and energy, their inward spirit and 
outward power, than this. It tested thus 
early his ruling qualities. It showed to 
what he was equal. It proved his clear 
perceptions, his ability, his will, his power 
to lead and help, and do the duty to be 




REVERE MEMORIAL 


35 


done. The particulars of this affair were 
little known. He never told them to 
more than one or two. He said they were 
too terrible to speak of. It was a page to 
be turned over,—not to be forgotten, but 
to be kept to himself alone. He came 
home with a change in his look and tone. 
His careless youth was left behind. The 
ordeal he had passed through sobered and 
developed him. He had been too near 
death to be ever otherwise than keenly 
alive to the solemn realities of his being, 
or to the obligations laid upon him to 
accomplish the work for which he had 
been spared. 

A single incident connected with this 
event is too striking to be lost. A few 
weeks afterwards, a brother of young Re¬ 
vere was crossing Boston Harbor in one 
of the ferry-boats. Seeing a group of 
people on board, apparently much inter¬ 
ested in some story a man among them 
was telling, he drew near to listen, and 
heard this tale of Paul’s prowess given 
with spirit by a stranger from the West, 
who declared that it was one of the most 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


3(> 

wonderful instances of nobleness and en¬ 
durance they had heard of in that region, 
accustomed as they were to exposure and 
peril of every kind. 

Some year’s later a nephew of Paul’s, 
following in the same track of travel and 
inquiry that he did, visited the neighbor¬ 
hood of this disaster on Lake Superior. 
Strangely enough, he fell in with the old 
boatman who was saved, and who had 
some remembrance left of what occurred; 
but his mind was so much beclouded by 
age and intemperance, that there was lit¬ 
tle to be gained from him. 

The next year or so of Paul’s life was 
a period of some trial to him. It was a 
time of waiting for fit occupation, instead 
of earnest, active, definite work, which a 
young man of high purpose likes to be 
engaged in. He had the wisdom to know 
that he must be patient until there was 
an opening for him. But it was not 
wasted time. It was a season of quiet 
development for his excellent natural 
powers. He thought much, and turned 
to books as a resource and pleasure; 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


37 


studying French, and looking into dra¬ 
matic literature, and finding a fund of 
rich entertainment in old English plays, 
and in the lighter comedy of a later day. 

In the autumn of 1855 circumstances 
offered him a field of interest and abun¬ 
dant usefulness. A large wharf belonging 
to his father had been burnt over, and 
required rebuilding. The conduct of this 
important business, and afterwards the 
care of the property, fell upon him. It 
was a laborious employment, compelling 
him to be engaged constantly with its 
details, and thus appeared to be a favor¬ 
able beginning for whatever mercantile 
enterprise might be before him. Here it 
was, on this wharf, day by day, that he 
met with opportunities for sympathy and 
effort in behalf of the poor and suffering. 
His observation of the unfortunate, and 
his application to their wants, was un¬ 
wearied. Indeed, he was peculiarly alive 
to the claims of all such classes of persons. 
Many were the forlorn children, wander¬ 
ing and begging about the streets, that he 
provided for; and he was the last one to 


38 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


see a neglected, tempted girl, without 
inquiring how she lived, and putting her, 
if possible, in a protected situation. Thus 
it was that he filled his place, cheerfully 
performing his various and sometimes 
irksome duties, and refreshing himself 
with the pleasure of doing what good he 
could to others. Faithful and useful in 
these relations, what more could he have 
been? A good life is after this pattern; 
and the best life and the noblest cannot 
rise above it. 

Of the home-side of his experience, 
and the traits he manifested in society 
and among his friends at this time, his 
mother writes, “It is difficult to describe 
the social qualities of one who thought 
nothing of himself in relation to society, 
who only obeyed his friendly feelings in 
the way his position allowed. He was 
genial and graceful in all his intercourse; 
with fine powers of conversation, always 
expressing the most decided opinions in 
a calm manner; with good taste, gifted 
in various lines of entertainment; capa¬ 
ble of severe exercise; fond of sport,— 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


39 


of hunting, fishing, driving, riding; with 
a self-possession equal to the event of the 
moment, his self-government fitting him 
for wise decisions in the most conciliatory 
manner; every one about him turning to 
him to say what was right and best. He 
despised gossip; and many is the common 
detractor that has been checked in a kind 
spirit by a demand for authority and evi¬ 
dence with regard to an evil story 
thoughtlessly told. It is, in fact, quite 
impossible to give an impression, to those 
who did not know him, of his personal 
influence, or of the enjoyment of his 
friends in their intercourse with him, or 
of the dependence they placed on his 
judgment and energy. His step on the 
threshold brought a sense of security and 
happiness to his family. If there was 
anxiety, who could better relieve it; and 
if there was peace and sunshine, who 
more ready to share in it, and add to the 
comfort and joy?” 

One of his sisters, referring to this 

period of youth, writes, “-told me 

some days since that you were anxious to 



40 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


recall some of the lighter characteristics 
of our dear Paul. Could I give you any 
thing that to me would seem worthy, or 
would show what real humor he had, I 
should consider no labor too great; but I 
cannot express what I so well know. I 
have tried to jot down a few little child¬ 
ish recollections; and they may serve to 
remind you of him. I have greatly en¬ 
joyed the vividness of his presence which 
I have had in trying to live over with him 
these past few days. 

“I think Paul had, from a very little 
boy, the power of impersonating any 
character which interested him. He used 
to love ballad poetry; and I can remem¬ 
ber liking, and yet hating, to hear him 
repeat ‘Casabianca,’ because I often could 
not keep the tears back, and because I 
felt as if he were ‘the boy.’ So strong is 
this feeling, that I can never get rid of 
the thought when I see this piece of 
poetry. 

“Certain passages of Shakespeare I 
remember and know wholly from the 
thrill of terror I felt in hearing him re- 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


41 


peat them. So perfectly did he lose his 
identity when playing in private theatri¬ 
cals (for which amusement he had a 
strong taste), that on one occasion, when 
he took the part of a French notaire 
(rather the villain of the piece), I remem¬ 
ber feeling a certain doubt whether he 
were not showing his real self in this part, 
and whether all his life previously had 
not been acting. He threw himself so 
completely into the character, that the 
impression left on me was painful. 

4 4 He could imitate the cry of bird or 
beast with wonderful accuracy; and when 
he would spring round the room, up in 
the corners, or on some high place, chat¬ 
tering and scolding like a monkey, I felt 
afraid of him, for the moment, as I should 
of the veritable animal. 

44 When we were children, he was 
always thinking of tricks and pranks that 
we could play together; and he had the 
most comical way of looking quite grave 
and innocent when we were found out. 
And then he would assure me he should 
never have done the mischief if I had not 


42 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


suggested it; until, often, I have really 
believed, that, some way or other, I did 
originate it. Finally, he would add, ‘I 
forgive you, I forgive you,’ making me 
feel myself the guilty one. This, however, 
was wholly by ourselves. He never 
shielded himself from punishment by any 
such fun. 

“ One Christmas Eve, when I was a 
little girl, he completely took me in by 
making me tell over to him the different 
presents for all the household, and then 
bringing in his own name so naturally, 
that I fell into the trap, and told him 
what his present was to be also, to the 
great amusement of father, who was list¬ 
ening to us. 

“When we were studying French 
together, he would not speak in French 
before our teacher, although he was so 
thoroughly prepared upon all grammatical 
points, that Dr. Arnoult used to say, 4 Ah, 
Monsieur Paul est a cheval sur les prin- 
cipes.’ But, when Dr. Arnoult was gone, 
he would shower forth sentence after 
sentence of French intermingled with 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


43 


broken English. A natural shyness made 
him unwilling, except as a joke, to try his 
knowledge of the language. Often did I 
beg him, amid my shouts of laughter, to 
let Dr. Arnoult hear him once; for his 
accent also was excellent. 

* 4 When we were playing together very 
much like children, though we were 
grown man and woman, he would some¬ 
times suddenly stop, and feign being hurt. 
Although many experiences of the trick 
had made us all wary, yet so perfectly 
would he act his part, being quietly grave, 
and as if he was controlling himself in 
pain, that thousands of times I have had 
my sympathy wholly roused, and told 
him how sorry I felt; then he would show 
me by some extravagant expression of 
suffering how completely I was tricked.” 

To go on now with the more serious 
course of his manhood. Paul was mar- 
tied to Lucretia W., daughter of the late 
Rev. Dr. Lunt of Quincy, Mass., on the 
17th day of March, 1859. Their first 
home was, for a few months, in a suite of 


44 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


rooms in Boston; but, with the coming 
on of summer, they moved to Quincy. 
In the autumn they took a small house in 
Tremont Street, near his father’s, which 
was prettily fitted up to suit their tastes 
and wants. Here, in the following year, 
a child was born to them,— a boy, named 
for one of his early friends, Frank 
Dabney. 

Engaged in business, still occupied in 
leisure moments with books, in daily 
intercourse with a large family circle, 
with a host of young admiring friends 
about him, adding variety to his home, 
every thing went on smoothly and brightly 
till the first alarm of war and preparation 
for the field in 1861. It was in the winter 
preceding the fall of Fort Sumter, that a 
friend writes of going to see him one 
evening, and hearing his first utterance 
of feeling upon the subject. u How well 
I remember it!” he says. “Paul was 
sitting before the wood-fire in his parlor, 
smoking; his wife with her basket of 
work at the table; every thing cheerful 
and happy. The conversation turned to 





REVERE MEMORIAL 


45 


the stirring events of the day. Paul 
remarked upon the excited state of the 
public mind at the South, and upon the 
strong inclination of the people there to 
tight for disunion. ‘ There are plenty of 
those young men,’ he said, ‘hot for the 
held.’ I was rather incredulous; but he 
insisted that he was not mistaken, and 
added significantly, ‘ I know of one, too, 
who will be ready in such a cause to go 
forth to meet them.’ I looked about his 
pleasant room, so full of peace, and with 
the light and promise of many a blessing, 
and thought of what it would be for him, 
and such as he, to give these comforts up. 
And often have I recalled that scene and 
conversation since, and felt what high 
resolve was his, and what a sacrifice he 
made, and had already then determined 
to make, when the hour came, of every 
thing dear and precious in this home 
below.” 

That year was rich in simple satisfac¬ 
tions, delightful to look back upon. His 
shining qualities grew more conspicuous; 
and he used the time kindly and well in 


46 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


cementing old friendships and in the 
common ways of civility and entertain¬ 
ment. The following letter from a friend 
in reply to a request, that he would try 
to give some idea of Paul as he was at 
this time, free and light hearted among 
his intimates, affords the best information 
that can be made use of upon this point: 

Brookline, Oct. 22, 1807. 

My Dear Mrs. Revere, —It gave me great 
pleasure to get your note, and would give me still 
greater did I feel able to properly give you the 
information you wish. 

Paul, though only a year older than I, was 
three years ahead of me in college; and, as college 
men associate more intimately with their own 
classmates than with those of other classes, it came 
naturally to pass that I was more intimate with 
Paul in the five years that succeeded my gradua¬ 
tion than ever before. What added to it was our 
little social club that we called “The Terrapin.” 

We were nine years younger then, and had had 
little either to sadden or sour us. He, was the 
best man who could make most good hits; and 
nobody had the right or the wish to feel hurt by 
them. In this respect, Paul was well known as 
one of the strongest of us. Sometimes we would 




REVERE MEMORIAL 


47 


all turn on him, and try to overwhelm him; but 
he was too good a fencer, and seldom was 
worsted. I do not mean to say, by any means, 
that we were astonishing wits; but I do affirm 
that we were all very fast friends, and well dis¬ 
posed to be merry at small provocation. 

I rather think that the first good wishes that 
your boy got was when his health was drunk at a 
meeting of “The Terrapin” just after he was born. 

All these recollections may seem frivolous to 
you, and perhaps they are so: but to me they are 
very sweet; for the essence of them, after all, is 
affection, which is one of the few things that really 
amount to anything. And again: these recollec¬ 
tions are cut off sharply from my present life, 
almost as those of an old man who looks back at 
his youth. The war was enough to cut anybody’s 
life in two by a broad gap. Our club was too 
much changed in those years to live afterwards. 
Paul had fallen on the field of battle. My very 
dear friend Ellis had died far away. Palfrey had 
returned, but with a grievous wound and broken 
health. It was no longer the same thing. 

All this gives no material to aid you; but, in¬ 
deed, I have none to furnish: you cannot put the 
social charms of a man in a book form. Witness 
the uniformly unsuccessful attempts to give us a 
real idea of the attractions of such men as Charles 
Lamb or Irving. We can very easily say that 


48 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


Paul was brave, even among the bravest; that he 
had coolness, and sound sense, and a sentiment of 
honor that never failed. But then there are many 
brave, honorable, and sensible men, who do not 
particularly interest us, and therefore we have 
omitted something; and that something is pre¬ 
cisely what is nearly impossible to be conveyed in 
writing. . . . 

I am sorry to have given you only a few of my 
recollections as they come up before me. 

Ever very faithfully yours, 

T. L. 

This brings us to the end of the peace¬ 
ful path which our friend was allowed to 
pursue on earth. As soon as there was a 
call for troops to put down the rebellion, 
his heart was warmly engaged in the 
matter; and the moment he saw his way 
open to a proper post of duty, and place 
of influence and trust, he offered himself, 
as did multitudes of the bravest and best, 
to maintain the cause of the country. 
His home in Boston was broken up in the 
summer of 1861. His family removed to 
Quincy; and he attached himself as major 
to the Twentieth Regiment Massachusetts 
Volunteers, which was being recruited at 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


49 


Readville under Col. William Raymond 
Lee. 

From this day to his death, his career 
was that of a soldier, discovering gifts, 
and developing powers, especially adapted 
to that service. 

It was at this time that he received 
the following note; 


No. 29, Winter Street, July 24, 1861. 

My Dear Paul, —We have selected a sword, 
belt, and knot for you; and it is now at Bent and 
Bush’s. Will you call, when in town, and look at 
it? as we want your approval before having it 
marked. 

Yours ever, 

E. C. Cabot, for 


A. Coolidge, 

T. Cunningham, 
F. L. Lee, 

C. Dabney, 

D. Lam son. 


W. P. Mason, 

W. G. Cabot, 

C. W. Loring, 

A. Lawrence, 

B. Crowninshield. 


In the summer of 1871 this sword, 
taken from him at Ball’s Bluff, was 
returned to his family by the courtesy 
of a Confederate officer, whose name is 
unknown. 

4 


50 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


Major Revere, in the camp, gave him¬ 
self, with his wonted energy and spirit, 
to the task of filling up the regiment, and 
bringing it into order. In this arduous 
work he was associated with many youug 
men with whom he had always stood in 
friendly relations. Their high tone gave 
in time a character to the regiment, and 
helped it to win a name of honor which 
it never lost. 

His mother, in her journal, tells how 
his family was affected by the step he had 
thus taken. She writes, “ On the 16th of 
July, 1861, we moved, as usual in summer, 
to Canton, and prepared our minds for the 
departure of Paul. His camp was near 
enough for us to see him daily, and to 
understand his strong feeling on the sub¬ 
ject of the country, and for him to be 
aided by his father’s wonderful firmness 
and enthusiam for the cause. It helped 
to carry us through his departure. His 
wife and all our united family knew the 
full force of what we were to endure at 
that moment. We were sustained alone 
by faith in the wisdom of Grod. I had 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


51 


resisted the impulse which led Paul to 
this solemn decision. I could not be 
reconciled to the terrible sacrifices he 
must make to go. If I had at all realized 
the great future that hung upon the con¬ 
versation I had with him, I should have 
treasured up every word he uttered. It 
was so much above common remarks. I 
made all the objections a mother has the 
right to express. I reminded him of his 
father’s age, our habitual dependence on 
him, most of all his wife and child, the 
breaking-up of our family happiness, 
which was founded upon principle and 
affection, and was the gift of God. He 
answered, ‘I have weighed it all; and 
there is something higher still. The 
institutions of the country, indeed free 
institutions throughout the world, hang 
on this moment. The more a man sacri¬ 
fices, the more power and right he has to 
influence other men. I should be ashamed 
of myself if I were to sit down in happy 
indulgence, and leave such a great matter 
as this to take its course. I can carry 
other men with me; and with them must 


52 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


struggle for the freedom and the princi¬ 
ples that have built up this nation. I will 
never go without your consent, but I shall 
be humbled if I stay at home.’ Of course 
I said, ‘Do as you think is right.’ He 
obeyed his strong convictions, and left all 
and went. And we, suffering the utmost, 
put our trust in the mercy of God, or we 
could not have born it.” 

The regiment left Readville on the 
fourth day of September, 1861, and was 
ordered to the Upper Potomac. There 
they were encamped at Poolesville, Md., 
for more than a month. In the mean 
time, Dr. Edward H. R. Revere, brother 
of the major, had joined the Twentieth 
as assistant surgeon. 

The following extracts from letters 
written at this time contain some of 
Major Revere’s first impressions of camp 
life: 


Sunday, Sept. 15, 1861. 

I find myself this morning in camp at Poolesville. 
We arrived here last evening, half an hour 
after dark, and consequently did not pitch tents. 
Indeed it was hardly desirable; for a more perfect 



REVERE MEMORIAL 


53 


night I never saw, a bright moon, and not a cloud, 
with the ground perfectly dry. We shall be about 
four miles from the Potomac, between Edward’s 
Ferry and Conrad’s Ferry. The enemy keep 
pickets on the other side of the river to watch us. 

The three regiments are encamped together on 
a slope between two higher ridges, not high hills, 
but of the same character as all the country on 
this side of the river,—hills of very much the same 
shape as the hills in Quincy, with rounded tops. 
The country is very beautiful, large farms in all 
directions; the one on which we are, being of 
seven hundred acres, a large portion of which is 
under cultivation. The trees are very fine; all the 
trees that we have at home, except elms and 
maples, and many that we do not have,—ever¬ 
green-oaks, gum-trees, and many others. The 
oaks are the finest that I have ever seen. 

Sept. 29. —It has been quite cold for several 
nights past, with frost, which disposes of all fears 
of fever and ague. I very much doubt if it is ever 
to be feared here, with ordinary care, as it is a 
hill country, with sandstone formation, and under 
cultivation for more than a century. I have 
undertaken the mess lately; and it is a great 
provocation to me, with my fondness for shooting, 
to see pigeons, quails, and squirrels about in num¬ 
bers, and not to be able to shoot them: but as we 
can only fire guns between the hours of ten and 


54 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


twelve, owing to their being mistaken for the 
guns of sentinels, I have to let them go . 

Again, in the words of his mother’s 
journal, “ On the 21st of October was 
fought the fearful battle at Ball’s Bluff, 
in which our forces were defeated; and 
both our sons were taken prisoners, with 
Colonel Lee and other officers of the 
regiment. We suffered much with the 
intelligence; but, as various events tran¬ 
spired, it proved a much greater trial than 
we could have anticipated, and gave us a 
sad winter in 1862. There are many 
published accounts of the battle; and we 
had interesting descriptions from our 
friends in the Twentieth Regiment.” 

A private in the Twentieth writes as 
follows: 

POOLESVILLE, NOV. 16. 

What I am about to write I saw, and you can 
rely upon it. Sunday, Oct. 20, at about two p. m., 
1 saw the officer of the day run to the drummers’ 
quarters, and order them to beat the assembly; 
and the Twentieth Regiment was soon formed at 
company quarters, and marched to Edward’s 
Ferry, where we remained until four o’clock; 


BALLS BLUFF, HARRISON’S ISLAND IN THE FOREGROUND 


♦ 

























































































































































































































REVERE MEMORIAL 


55 


when we crossed the canal, and marched to Con¬ 
rad’s Ferry, opposite Leesburg. At this place we 
laid down to rest until eleven o’clock; when we 
were ordered to sling knapsacks, and stood in line 
for an hour or so, and then crossed to an island, 
in the river. 

This island is three miles long, and divides the 
Potomac River into two equal parts. The Fif¬ 
teenth and Twentieth Massachusetts Regiments 
remained on this island till morning; when the 
Fifteenth commenced crossing to the Virginia 
side. The landing was at the base of a hill which 
rises nearly perpendicular to the height of one 
hundred feet. In order to gain the summit, the 
men were obliged to defile single file to the left, 
and then to the right, when an open field was 
gained upon the heights. As soon as our forces 
reached the shore, the enemy’s pickets hastily re¬ 
tired, having wounded only one of our men. Five 
companies of the Fifteenth Regiment were ferried 
across as fast as our limited means (which con¬ 
sisted of only one old scow, capable of carrying 
seventy-five men) would allow. When they had 
reached the high land, the companies formed, and 
marched in good order for some distance; when 
they were fired upon by a concealed foe, and thirty 
fell,—all wounded in the leg except one, who was 
shot through the body, and killed. Our brave 
men rallied, charged upon them, and drove them 


56 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


from their covert. At noon, it was decided to 
make a stand; and the Twentieth Regiment were 
ordered to prepare to cross. We marched up the 
hill, happy and gay, ready for the fight. As we 
were winding our way up the hill, we met a sol¬ 
dier, who said, “You will have fun soon after you 
get to the top.” Other companies pressed forward 
until seven were in line of battle, under command 
of the resolute Col. Lee. 

At two o’clock, four regiments were in order, 
ready to receive the foe. Fifteen minutes later, 
firing commenced in the woods upon our left, and 
increased to a steady roar of musketry. The 
struggle was severe on both sides; but the enemy 
were driven back by our skirmishers without the 
aid of the main body; not, however, without losing 
ten or twelve men. Shortly after this skirmish, 
Gen. Baker rode up the hill; and his presence 
made our force five hundred stronger. He rode 
up to Col. Lee, and in a familiar, unceremonious 
manner, said, “How do you do, Col. Lee? We 
have had a chance at them, at last.” Then, turn¬ 
ing to the line, he added, “Boys, do you want to 
fight?”—“Yes,” was the response. “Then you 
shall have a chance,” said he, and turned his 
attention to the field. 

I have not stated what regiments composed 
our force. They were the Fifteenth and Twen¬ 
tieth Massachusetts, California and Tammany 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


57 


New-York. Gen. Baker told us the truth. The 
enemy attacked our front in force,—not appar¬ 
ently with any intention of pressing it, but for 
the purpose of attracting our attention in that 
direction, and then to turn our left flank. In 
stating our force, I forgot to mention one battery, 
consisting of one thirty-two, and two four-pound 
howitzers, under command of the Rhode-Island 
Third Artillery. 

These pieces opened fire on the rebels, and 
drove them back; but it was only to draw a vigor¬ 
ous fire on our left. The action now became gen¬ 
eral; but to give you a description of it, God 
knows I never can, for it was beyond my compre¬ 
hension. We were ordered to advance and fire. 
Those who had sufficient presence of mind did so; 
but many fired at random, without stopping to 
observe what they fired at, or where they fired; 
and the result was, that a number of our own 
men, especially our artillerists, fell by the hands 
of their friends. The firing continued with ter¬ 
rific fury. Our men, becoming calmer, fired with 
better effect, and paid more attention to orders. 

The thirty-two-pound gun was stationed on the 
left of the centre; and we had to march up even 
with this piece to deliver fire. The third time of 
our advancing to fire, I cast my eyes about the 
field, and saw our four-pound guns completely de¬ 
serted : not a man was near them. I was thunder- 


58 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


struck at the thought that our field-pieces were 
lost; they being our only hope. About this time 
Gen. Baker called out, pointing to our thirty-two- 
pound gun, “Boys, stand by that gun. Defend 
that, and the day is ours; but, if that is lost, we 
are lost.” Meantime, the gun was fired five or 
six times; and every discharge caused a lull in the 
fire of the rebels, but only to commence again with 
greater energy. Our company began to fall thick 
and fast, being in the most exposed position,— 
near the gun upon which the enemy’s fire Was 
concentrated. Three of the four horses attached 
to the gun were shot. The safety of the gun now 
depended upon the bravery of our men. Every 
time it was fired, it recoiled, and started down the 
hill. The gallant boys grasped the wheels, and, 
stopping it, reloaded it, and ran it back again. 

The enemy had now gained our left sufficiently 
to command the little open space upon which we 
were posted; and they covered the ground with 
missiles of death. Gen. Baker and Col. Lee were 
passing over the field in every direction, cheering 
the men, perfectly regardless of personal danger, 
and of the dreadful carnage around them. We 
were ordered to cease firing, and to lie down; but 
it was some time before the order was understood 
so as to be generally obeyed. The demons con¬ 
trived to advance through the woods on our left, 
keeping up a constant fire, but with less effect; our 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


59 


men having all fallen upon their faces, with their 
rifles cocked, and ready to fire when ordered. 
“Rise up!” was heard. “Forward, boys, for¬ 
ward!” We obeyed; opened a murderous fire 
upon them, and continued it for some minutes, 
the enemy returning it with vigor. At this time 
our gun was fired; and away it w T ent down the 
hill, till it brought up in a little valley fifteen 
rods from its position. I was at the distance of 
thirty or forty feet, and saw it start. I ran 
towards it, hallooing at the top of my voice, “Stop 
it, stop it!” But it was gone; not a man taking 
hold of it. The enemy’s fire began to slacken; and 
finally they retired from the field. 1 

If ever I felt anything like joy, it was at this 
moment. We carried the wounded to the rear, 
and formed our line of battle again. Retreat was 
out of the question; having only one boat to carry 
us across the river. In half an hour the enemy 
returned, and renewed the battle. We were now 
pressed with an overwhelming force, and driven 
back. Gen. Baker fell dead. Shortly after, Col. 
Lee gave orders to fall back. We retreated to the 
water’s edge, where the greatest confusion pre¬ 
vailed. Col. Lee ordered Major Revere to hoist 
the white flag; but it brought no relief. The boat 
had carried over two loads of the wounded; and, 
when it arrived the third time, men rushed into it, 
and filled it to overflowing. It was shoved into 


60 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


the stream; and, when one-third of the way across, 
it sunk. The cries that came from those poor 
drowning mortals, I shall never forget. Col. Lee, 
Major Revere, his brother Dr. Revere, and Adju¬ 
tant Peirson, now started up the river, and I 
followed them. We travelled about a mile, and 
came to a mill. Before reaching it, we saw a 
negro, who started and ran, but was made to re¬ 
turn by the promise not to injure him. He told 
us that there was no force about there. He said 
that there was a skiff “down in the river: follow 
that path, and you will find it.” The party was 
now increased to twelve or fifteen. 

I went to the water’s edge, looked up and down 
the river, but saw no boat: I turned back to where 
I last saw my companions, but could find no trace 
of them. What to do now, I was at a loss to de¬ 
termine. I thought of the river; but it was wide, 
the water was cold, and I was foaming like a 
hound after the chase. I saw that the officers 
must be taken prisoners, and that, if I followed 
them, it would be to share their fate. God had 
protected me through one terrible scene; and I 
felt encouraged by the thought that he would 
enable me to cross the river in safety. I then took 
off my equipments, and laid them under a fence 
with my gun. I found a board, took off my coat 
and shoes, laid them on one end of it, and headed 
my frail bark towards the stream. I took a 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


61 


strong and steady stroke, and continued it till I 
reached shore upon the island. The bank was 
steep; and I crawled to the top on my hands and 
knees. Straightening myself up, I took a few 
steps forward, and fell to the ground. I received 
only one or two scratches on my ear. A spent- 
ball struck me on the foot, making me a little 
lame. Our loss is heavy. What are left of us 
are being armed and equipped anew. I want to 
live to see the enemy defeated once. The men 
fought bravely; but our unfortunate position lost 
for us the field. 1 

The incideuts of their capture that 
night, on the bank of the river, as they 
were looking in vain for a boat to convey 
them across; the discomforts and weari¬ 
ness of the road to Richmond; the trials 
of the tobacco-house in which they were 
first confined, and the horrors of the jail 
to which they were subsequently removed, 
can only be known fully to the sufferers 
themselves, and to those who have learned 
the story from them. The prisoners 
endured a hurried march from Leesburg 
on foot, for fourteen hours, through a 
severe rain-storm, without food until 
they stopped to rest. They were then 


62 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


taken in the cars to Richmond, and hud¬ 
dled into a large tobacco-house, where 
they found some unfortunate men who 
had been there since the battle of Bull 
Run, three months before, and made an 
addition of several hundreds. There 
were nearly eighty officers on the lower 
floor, in the same apartment, without 
mattresses or covering, or any change of 
clothing, and supplied with prison food. 
This seemed hard enough to those who 
had never known what any real privation 
was before. But a harder lot was yet to 
befall some of them, with a refinement of 
cruelty, which, of course, it had never 
entered their minds to conceive. The 
following letters will give but little idea 
of the suffering or privations which Doc¬ 
tor and Major Revere endured during 
these long weeks. 

Each of them carefully gave the most 
hopeful and cheering view that he could 
of the trials which they had passed 
through, and which were yet to be borne. 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


63 


Richmond, Oct. 27, 1861. 

My Dear Laura, —I wrote you a few lines on 
Friday, stating that we had been taken prisoners, 
—Paul, Col. Lee, Lieut. Perry, Adjutant Peirson, 
and myself. Last Sunday I rode up to call on 
Gen. Stone; and, he not being at home, I rode 
down on the tow-path with Col. Devens, who in¬ 
formed me that some of his troops were on an 
island in the middle of the river, and he was ex¬ 
pecting an attack. After I left him, I met Col. 
Lee, with about two hundred of the Twentieth, 
marching up, and was ordered to get my instru¬ 
ments, and follow as soon as possible; which I did. 
We remained on the tow-path till about twelve 
o’clock, when we crossed to the island, where we 
found Col. Devens about to cross the river with a 
part of his regiment. He crossed in small boats, 
the largest only carrying about a dozen men. Col. 
Lee followed with a hundred men to protect 
Devens’s rear, in case he was forced to retreat. 
Every thing was quiet till after daylight; when 
Paul and I, with several other officers, who were 
taking a view of the other side of the river, were 
saluted with a few scattering shot from some of 
the enemy lying concealed in the woods. In a few 
moments we heard two or three shots; and one of 
our sergeants was brought over to the island 
wounded. By the time I had dressed his wound, 
the firing was again heard, as if a large force was 


G4 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


engaged; and soon after the boats commenced 
bringing over the wounded. Paul, during the 
night, had had a scow, which held about sixty 
men, brought around the island; and, the first trip 
it made, it brought over thirteen wounded. I, 
being the only surgeon, was, of course, very busy 
for some time; so that I could not see much that 
was going on, until about half-past eleven, when 
some other surgeons arrived. At that time, the 
rest of Devens’s regiment had mostly crossed; 
and, a little after twelve, Paul and the rest of our 
men were ordered over, and I went with them. 
We had hardly arrived at the top of the river’s 
bank, when the firing again commenced, and con¬ 
tinued, with slight intermission, until sundown, 
and in fact, after dark. We were receiving small 
re-enforcements all the time, and got over about 
fifteen hundred men. Our men fought well; but 
it was of no use. We were outnumbered, two to 
one, and were surrounded. It was a dreadful 
slaughter; and it is wonderful how any of us es¬ 
caped. I tried, at first, to find a place for the 
wounded, where I could attend to them; but the 
firing was so heavy, and from so many directions, 
that after two or three trials, I gave it up, and 
devoted myself to bandaging the wounds to stop 
bleeding, and sending them across the river. You 
can form no idea of the closeness of the fire. The 
enemy were within three hundred feet of us; and 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


65 


the air was perfectly alive with bullets. There 
were two howitzers brought over; but they were 
of no use, the officer in command, and most of his 
men, being killed at the first fire of the enemy. It 
was the same with a six-pounder which arrived 
afterward. The horses were all killed, and all but 
one of the men. Of twenty-two of our regimental 
officers who went into the battle, we know that ten 
are wounded 1 or killed; and five of us are here; and 
the others, I hope, may be safe. After the battle 
was over, we walked some distance up the river in 
hopes of finding some means of crossing, but met 
a party of cavalry, and surrendered. We were 
taken to Leesburg, and, after a dentention of 
three or four hours, at two o’clock were started 
for Manassas. We had a march of fourteen 
hours, with only one rest of about twenty minutes, 
when we arrived at Sedley Mills. We expected 
to remain there all night, but had scarcely got a 
fire built, and a comfortable seat, when we were 
ordered to march. We proceeded some miles far¬ 
ther, when we arrived at what is called the “Stone 
House,”—a house which was used as a hospital 
during the Bull Run fight. It rained hard during 
the whole march, and the mud was awful. The 
next morning we were carried in wagons to Ma¬ 
nassas, and after having remained in a barn, 
which was used as a guard-house, all day, took the 
cars for this place in the evening. Capt. Single- 


5 


66 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


ton of Mississippi, who came down from Leesburg 
to the Stone Church, was a very gentlemanly 
person, and treated us with all the consideration 
that he could: in fact, all the officers have been 
polite, with one exception. I think it is very 
probable that we may be sent farther south in the 
course of a few days. We are, of course, not very 
luxuriously accommodated, but have enough bread 
and meat to eat, and water to drink, provided by 
the government; but we have to purchase every 
thing else. Our lodgings are in the lower floor of 
a tobacco-house, with about seventy others. I 
hardly dare think of you at home, your anxiety 
must be so great; and we hardly dare hope that 
you have heard that we were prisoners. If there 
is any possibility of sending any thing to us, we 
need underclothes more than any thing, as we 
have nothing but what we had on, and we shall 
have to husband our money with the greatest care. 

E. H. R. R. 

Richmond, Oct. 24, 1861. 

I take the first moment to send you word of 
my safety and health. I am, as I trust you may 
have heard, a prisoner at this place, captured 
with Col. Lee, Edward, Adjutant Peirson, Lieut. 
C. B. Perry, after the battle near Leesburg, on 
Monday, Oct. 21. Of course, my own misfortune 
has been nothing in comparison to my anxiety on 



REVERE MEMORIAL 


67 


account of the distress of all at home on our 
account. I have endeavored to keep up the hope 
that correct reports of our fate might have 
reached you, but have had to reflect that no one 
who escaped might have known it. You must 
trust that the same Providence that has carried 
me unharmed through great danger will still be 
over us both for our greatest good. 

P. J. R. 

Oct. 27. 

I wrote to you Thursday 24, and hope to com¬ 
municate with you occasionally, as the authori¬ 
ties now seem inclined to accord whatever facili¬ 
ties they can consistent with a strict guard of their 
prisoners. We have plenty of wholesome food, 
and have been able to purchase such necessaries as 
were of immediate importance. It is, of course, 
an unfortunate event in our career; but, when you 
reflect how much greater cause for unhappiness 
the friends of those brave fellows who remain on 
the field have, we must believe it is for the best, 
and trust that the same Hand which led us through 
that rain of bullets will guide us still. The 
friends of those who fell may indeed be assured 
that no man can die in more thorough discharge 
of his duty than they did. 

The admiration of all the officers of other regi¬ 
ments, as well as our own, was excited by Ed¬ 
ward’s conduct during the battle. He was the 


68 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


only surgeon on the ground; and all the wounded 
were carried to him. The place where he was es¬ 
tablished was often under a tremendous fire; and 
yet he went on with his work as coolly as if he had 
been in a hospital. 

P. J. R. 

Nov. 11, 1861. 

The authorities here desire to notify our govern¬ 
ment of their intention to hold as hostages a cer¬ 
tain number of prisoners equal to the number of 
prisoners on trial in New York, and, in case of 
their conviction and execution, to treat those 
prisoners in an exactly similar manner. Those 
selected as hostages are the officers of highest 
rank; and my name is on the list, together with 
the names of all field-officers captured, and three 
captains to make up the number. We continue 
well, and as cheerful as may be under the circum¬ 
stances. I have brought my mind to a full reali¬ 
zation of our condition in all its aspects, and 
trust for that support on which alone we can with 
safety rely. I try not to dwell on the anxiety 
which I know you must have felt, and which is my 
greatest trouble; and hox>e to hear that you have 
been able to resign yourself to trust in the provi¬ 
dential disposition of our lives, whatever that dis¬ 
position may be, and to remember that all sepa¬ 
rations must have an end. You know with what 
feelings I undertook my military life; and I can 




REVERE MEMORIAL 


69 


assure you that my experience thus far has been 
to confirm the opinion that I was merely fulfilling 
a duty. 

P. J. R. 

Richmond, Nov. 11, 1861. 

Dear Laura, —You will see that we still remain 
in the same place. I have written several times, 
but have not as yet heard from you since the battle. 
Yesterday afternoon we received a visit from Gen. 
Winder, who informed us, that, his government 
having received information of the conviction of 
one of the privateersmen in New York, they had 
concluded to select by lot one of the United-States 
field-officers to undergo the same punishment 
which should be awarded to the privateersman. 
Col. Corcoran was the one drawn; and lie is to be 
confined as a condemned felon, and executed if 
the man Smith is. After this was done, he said 
the government had also concluded to take an 
equal number of our officers of the highest rank, 
and confine them in the same manner that they 
confine persons accused of the most heinous offen¬ 
ces, until the fate of the privateersmen is decided; 
when they would suffer the same. Paul and Col. 
Lee are amongst the number, also Capt. Ricketts, 
Capt. Rockwell of the Massachusetts Fifteenth, 
Col. Cogswell of the Tammany Regiment, who is a 
captain in Charles’s regiment, and was taken with 


70 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


us. We are all in good bodily health; but, of 
course, my anxiety is very great as to what may 
happen . Love to all. 

Ever your affectionate husband, 

E. H. H. Revere. 

Richmond, Nov. 20, 1861. 

Dear John,— Paul and the other officers left 
us last Thursday for the jail, to await the trial of 
the privateersmen. There were seven in all from 
here, the rest of the fourteen being either in South 
Carolina or at New Orleans. They are confined in 
one small cell with but two small windows. I hear 
from them every day, but am not allowed to see 
them. You can imagine our anxiety to hear what 
action the government will take when they hear 
of their imprisonment; for there is not the slight¬ 
est doubt in my mind, that whatever is done to the 
privateersmen will be meted out to our unfortu¬ 
nate comrades. 

Col. Randolph and wife have called on me, and 
have very kindly procured all of our party some 
underclothes; we none of us having had a change 
since the time of our capture. I sent Paul’s and 
the colonel’s to the jail last night. You cannot 
realize what a gratification it is to feel that you 
have on an entire clean suit unless you have had 
our experience. 

I got up this morning before light, took a cold 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


71 


bath, and then dressed up. There are over seventy 
of us confined on the lower floor of a tobacco- 
house; and, when we turn in for the night, it is 
almost impossible to pick your way about. It is 
quite cool here, there having been heavy frosts for 
the last few nights. To-morrow is Thanksgiving; 
and we all—I mean the Massachusetts men—fully 
realize how many heavy hearts there will be among 
you on that day. Every one of the officers in the 
jail are married men, and most, if not all, with 
families. We have taken into our mess a young 
man from Philadelphia, Capt. John Markoe. He 
is a very nice fellow, and had arranged to join our 
party before Paul and the colonel left us. 

Part of the officers are going South in the 
course of a day or two; but we have applied to re¬ 
main until the last here, so as to be near our 
friends; and the request has been granted. 

We see the papers every day; but little can be 
learned from them, as accounts of every thing are 
as unreliable, to say the least, as at home. With 
love to all. 

E. H. R. R. 

0. S. Prison, Richmond, Va., Nov. 23. 

I little expected, when I last saw you, to address 
you from the interior of a tobacco-house in this 
delightful city, where I am confined as prisoner 
of war. We are on the ground-floor in a room 


72 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


about a hundred feet long by fifty wide, through 
the centre of which run the tobacco presses. Until 
yesterday there have been from seventy to seventy- 
five persons, who have eat, drunk, slept, washed, 
and gone through all the operations of nature 
here. Yesterday, twenty were sent farther south, 
—I think to Alabama. Paul, Col. Lee, and five 
other officers of the highest rank, were removed 
to the jail a week ago Thursday, to await the con¬ 
clusion of the trial of the privateersmen, and to 
suffer the same punishment which is decreed to 
them. They are kept in strict confinement in a 
small cell hardly large enough for them to lie 
down comfortably in, and are allowed to see no 
one except the officers who have them in charge. 
The light which they get comes through two small 
windows, through which they have the cheering 
view of a brick wall. I hear form them almost 
every day; and they keep their health, although 
it seems hardly possible that they could through 
the winter, if the trials are put off, as we hear 
they are, until next April. 

Our principal occupations here are eating, 
drinking and sleeping. We have very few books, 
and those not of the most instructive kind. I 
play whist almost every evening, and expect, by 
the time I am released, to be quite a crack player; 
although I never could bear to sit through more 
than three games before. We have plenty of good 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


T3 


meat and bread to eat, and a straw bed to sleep 
on, with a comforter to cover us, provided by the 
Confederate government; but every thing else has 
to be bought. We did not suceced in getting any 
change of underclothes until this week. I do not 
mean to say that we wore the same clothes with¬ 
out having them washed; but, when they were 
washed, we had to go without until they were dry. 

E. H. R. R. 

Nov. 23, 1861. 

You cannot imagine what a relief it is to me to 
know that you have heard of our safety. Paul, 
the colonel, and five other officers, were removed 
to the jail a week ago Thursday. It was, of 
course, sad enough for us to have them go: but 
they were very cheerful; and the last words Paul 
said to me were, “Remember, whatever may hap¬ 
pen, it is all right.” Yesterday a large party of 
prisoners left for the South; and twenty of the 
officers who were confined here went with them. 
One would hardly believe how hard it was to part 
with them: it seemed really like breaking up a 
family. It makes it much more comfortable for 
those who remain, as we were very crowded. I 
have given up my four-post bedstead, in which I 
have slept since the first week, and appropriated a 
more comfortable one nearer the door, where there 
is better air. I do not recollect whether I have 


74 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


described my four-poster. It was our dining- 
table turned upside down, and a straw bed on 
it. The table was raised up on top of the stools; 
and the legs made a very nice place to hang my 
clothes on. 

Thursday being Thanksgiving Day, we, with 
the Massachusetts Fifteenth, indulged in a little 
extra dinner. We had a gallon and a half of oys¬ 
ters, a piece of roast beef, two kinds of pudding 
(rice and bread), and half a bushel of ginger- 
cakes of different sizes and kinds. It was rather 
a melancholy day to me; and I felt more than ever 
the separation from the dear ones at home, and 
could not help thinking of the many sad hearts 
there must be among those who had always before 
looked forward to the day with so much pleasure. 
I have read through all the books I could lay my 
hands on; and now the only amusements are walk¬ 
ing up and down, smoking, eating and sleeping, 
besides a game of whist or euchre in the evening. 
I am not yet reduced to playing cards in the day¬ 
time, although there are a great many who do. 
Paul had a letter from a gentleman in Baltimore, 
giving us credit with bankers here; so that our 
minds are relieved about distress for Want of 
money. We are now living as a joint-stock com¬ 
pany, having put what money we had together, 
and spending as little as possible. 

• E H. R. R. 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


75 


Nov. 27. 

Dear John, —I wish you would send me a 
suit of citizens clothes (cheap and thick), two 
suits of underclothes, a brier-wood pipe, a pair of 
boots, and my overcoat, which was left at home 
by mistake. Peirson has written to his brother 
for the same things. These letters go by two 
naval officers who have been released. One of 
them is William A. Abbott of Andover, whom you 
will probably see, as he intends returning home, 
being rather used up by four months’ imprison¬ 
ment. He has been confined with us here. 

E. H. R. R. 

Nov. 27, 1861. 

We are, as you will have heard, in close con¬ 
finement as hostages for the crew of “The Savan¬ 
nah” at New York. As to the result of our im¬ 
prisonment, you will have better opportunities to 
judge than I, under the circumstances. We hope 
confidently for the best. I am not, and, you will 
believe me, do not mean to allow myself to be 
discouraged. There is nothing to make me 
anxious as to my own health although the ex¬ 
perience is anything but pleasant. Edward re¬ 
ceived John’s letter, which he was able to send to 
me, and which was a great satisfaction. We had 
a note from C. L. P. today: they are all well, and 
in good spirits. You need have no fears of my 


7G REVERE MEMORIAL 

becoming discouraged; for I long since brought 
my mind to consider the situation cheerfully in 
any event. I received Josie’s and Jennie’s letters, 
and send them all the love they can wish, as I do 
to all, though necessarily in few words. The 
photographs are the source of the greatest enjoy¬ 
ment to me. Write to me, as fully as seems ex¬ 
pedient, of our prospects. Have no fears for my 
health; for there is no occasion for it, I assure 
you. Take good care of my boy and yourself, and 
trust with me, that, under Providence, all will go 
well. Try to realize all that I would say, if I 
could. I do not think I ever mentioned, that, in 
the battle, I received a slight scratch. It 
amounted to nothing, as you may know from our 
march the next day. A ball grazed my leg: it is 
long since well. 

> P. J. R. 

Nov. 27. 

I heard that Paul and the colonel were well 
today, and that is as much as we have known of 
them for the last few days; all communication 
with them being strictly prohibited. I drew a 
hundred dollars a few days ago, as I thought it 
was better to keep the few dollars of gold that I 
had, in case of any sudden change in our position; 
and the bankers sent us a letter from their Balti¬ 
more correspondent, requesting them to let us 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


77 


know tliat there was no danger of the privateers¬ 
men being hung, at any rate, at present. We are 
all well, and I really feel in much better spirits 
than I have since our friends departed. 

E. H. R. R. 


Dec. 8, 1861. 

I have received my underclothes and Peirson a 
box of clothes for the men, from Mrs. Lee, which 
he distributed yesterday. They were very grate¬ 
ful, as the poor fellows were very much in need of 
them. He said they were very much delighted to 
see him, and inquired after me. He had an op¬ 
portunity of seeing those in the hospitals; and all 
are doing well, with the exception of one or two 
who are consumptive. It is quieter this afternoon 
than it has been at any time since we have been in 
prison, as almost every one is writing. We have 
been notified that a flag of truce goes tomorrow. 
You cannot imagine what a relief it is; for there 
is generally such a talking going on, that it is al¬ 
most imposssible to think, or hear yourself speak 
The men must have suffered a good deal with the 
cold the last week. Those who are confined over 
us were walking up and down almost all night. I 
understand from the commissary, that they are to 
be furnished with comforters as soon as they can 
be made; but it seems as if our government might 


78 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


furnish them with blankets or overcoats. I have 
felt in much better spirits since I have had John’s 
letters, and am in great hopes that something may 
happen to relieve our friends, or make them more 
comfortable, before long. 

E. H. R. R. 


Dec. 15, 1861. 

We have been having quite an excitement the 
last few days, as there have been rumors of a 
general exchange of prisoners ; and this afternoon 
we heard that there were to be seventeen officers 
exchanged immediately. Of course, we do not 
expect to be of the number, as there are so many 
who have been here for so much greater length of 
time; but yet it is very pleasant to think that some 
of our number are going to be released, and that 
our time will be coming, if we are only patient. 
The Adjutant received the clothes from the State, 
and has commenced delivering them, and also a 
notice from Baltimore, that a thousand dollars 
are placed at his disposal for the men. Markoe 
received some books from one of his friends: so we 
have had some reading the last few days. Peir- 
son, also, had one of two from home, among them 
“The Pickwick Papers,” which, you know, is al¬ 
ways my great resource. 

E. H. R. R. 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


79 


Dec. 19, 1861. 

We have had quite an exciting week of it, there 
having been a continual rumor of exchange; and 
our chaplain, Mr. Mines, has been exchanged for 
a Dr. North, who was confined at Fort Warren. 
He discovered that Dr. North was there, and made 
application to the government for an exchange. 
Perhaps you can discover an assistant surgeon 
there. One of our number, Quartermaster Hart 
of Indiana, has written quite a funny song on the 
release of the prisoners; and all the singers 
amongst us have been making the house ring with 
it. Several Confederate officers have been in to 
hear it; and last night we had a visit from a glee- 
club of the prisoners, privates in the California 
regiment, who sang very well. We hear that a 
hundred and fifty of the prisoners are going South 
this week; but I hope none of us. 

I went into the office last evening to see a 
gentleman, with Lieut. Hooper and Peirson, and 
had quite a pleasant hour smoking and talking. 
One person, a judge somebody, took Hooper one 
side (not knowing that he was a prisoner), and 
told him he really thought those Yankees were 
quite gentlemanly fellows. When Hooper in¬ 
formed him that lie was one of the prisoners, he 
was quite taken down, and had not much more to 
say. 


E. H. R. R. 


80 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


Dec. 20. 

We continue in the same position as since we 
left Edward. We are all well and in good heart; 
though you can readily understand the monotony 
of the imprisonment. As to its duration, we have 
no means of judging, but from what we hear from 
home, as it depends entirely on the movements 
there. I knew that Parker would be actively 
interested. It is from the personal efforts of such 
men that we have most to hope. 

I was interrupted here by a visit from Mr. 
Faulkner. It was very pleasant to meet one who 
had so lately seen you; and his visit was the more 
satisfactory from being the first that we have been 
allowed to receive. He was extremely courteous, 
and profuse in offers to do any thing in his power. 

P. J. R. 

Dec. 20. 

I am very well: have no fears for my health. 
Nothing gives me greater pleasure than to hear 
that father continues so well; for I know how 
fully he comprehends, in all its aspects, the pres¬ 
ent condition of affairs. Give my love to him, and 
tell him that I have never regretted my decision 
less than I do now. It has given us all the 
greatest satisfaction to hear of the kind treatment 
received by the prisoners held by our government; 
and we sincerely hope that it may continue with- 



REVERE MEMORIAL 


81 


out regard to our condition. Let us remember 
that we are before the eyes of the civilized world, 
whose personal feelings are not enlisted, and who 
will therefore be influenced solely by the acts of 
the parties engaged. I desire that no friend of 
mine will neglect an opportunity of serving- 
prisoners in every possible way. But they must 
not hope, in so doing, to affect our condition; for 
it will produce no effect whatever: that depends 
on official acts. 

P. J. R. 

Dec. 24. 

We had a note from our friends in the tobacco 
warehouse, saying that they were to be allowed to 
send communications to us. It will be a great 
pleasure to us, as we have heard from them di¬ 
rectly but seldom. 

Our days are all the same. We go to. bed 
early,—I, as you will have guessed, the last—never 
later than ten o’clock; and rise from eight to nine 
(myself not the first). When breakfast arrives, 
this and a pipe occupy the time for an hour or 
more, when we walk in the area for half an hour, 
during which the room is swept (all taking turns 
at it). Colonel Lee and I then read prayers, after 
which, until three o’clock (when dinner comes), 
we occupy the time as best we can. Between four 
and five, another half hour in the yard, and dark- 

6 


82 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


ness; from which time until bed we read aloud, or 
play cards. 

We are a very good-tempered party, fortunately, 
and rub against each other without much friction. 

P. J. R. 

Jan. 10, 1862. 

I wrote to you January 3, the day on which I 
received my Christmas box—or, rather, heard of 
it. I never looked in my stocking with greater 
delight than I had in opening it. Every thing was 
in it according to the list, and every thing I 
wanted. I recognized all the presents,—partic¬ 
ularly John’s, in the pataloons pocket,—and 
thank you all very much. I wear Jennie’s cap so 
much, that I fear I shall become bald. I am very 
well, as when I last wrote, as are all the party. 
We remain in the same position as heretofore. I 
think that I receive most of the letters which are 
written: so, of course, the more the better. And, 
the oftener that I hear that you are all well, the 
easier my position. I have sent John’s letter to 
Edward. I hear of him often, though we have few 
chances to correspond. He is well. I have as 
little as ever to write about; for the little varieties 
that occur, even in our small world, are usually 
not to be mentioned to “ears polite,” and are 
oftenest due to some member of the “fust colored 
circles” unhappily incarcerated. 




REVERE MEMORIAL 83 

As I have before written, the days slip by 
rapidly. 

I don’t think that I told you, that, on Christ¬ 
mas Day, we had roast turkey and (think of it!) 
oysters, the gift of our kind and indulgent jailer. 
A lady, Miss Van Lew, has been allowed to send 
us some books, which were very acceptable, as our 
stock was quite limted. Saturday, 11. — All well 
this morning. Captain Gibbs has come for let¬ 
ters. Love to all. 

P. J. R. 

Jan. 26, 1862. 

We have just been cheered by a visit from C. L. 
T\, with the news of his exchange. He hopes to 
get off to-morrow. He will write to you at home 
of us all. We remain in the same position as 
heretofore. Edward was allowed to visit us sev¬ 
eral times last week. He is very well and cheer¬ 
ful. I manage to get exercise enough for health; 
and, as we have clothes in abundance, I have no 
fears for the future. A lady of this place has sent 
us, on several occasions, various nice things, the 
previous absence of which, however, was our least 
discomfort. I assure you we get on much better 
than you at home suppose; for, with health and 
good temper, quarters as close as ours may be 
quite endurable. 

I write in hopes of sending this by Mr. Ely, 


84 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


who is exchanged for Mr. Faulkner. Believe me, 
that, should I be released from this disagreeable 
position, the experience of the past few months 
will have done much to soften certain defects 
which my heretofore easy life lias cultivated, and 
thus prove not a misfortune, but a benefit; and, 
whatever the result, you may be sure that I esti¬ 
mate the affairs of this life much more at their 
true value (which I conceive to be one of the great 
objects of existence) than ever before. From this 
text you must write the rest of my letter. 

P. J. R. 


Jan. 10, 1862. 

Since my last letter, Dr. Fletcher and myself 
have had our attention occupiel with the sick and 
wounded most of the time. You can hardly realize 
how much the enjoyment has been of the little 
liberty which we have; the whole extent of our 
walk being, not more than from your mother’s 
house round by the Ward’s gate on Washington 
Street, back by their road on to Pleasant Street. 
Our written parole is for the whole city of Rich¬ 
mond; but we gave a verbal one not to go out of 
certain limits, which is as agreeable to ourselves 
as to the authorities, as we only took it at the re¬ 
quest of the acting surgeon of the post, to assist 
him in the performance of his duties. No one 
could believe that there could be such a change in 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


85 


the appearance of patients as there was in the 
sick here from merely knowing that we were Yan¬ 
kee doctors. The patients sick with typhoid fever 
showed it more than any others, although there 
was no material change in the treatment. It 
seemed to brighten them up; and a few words of 
encouragement did them more good than any 
medicine. I think that the whole disease took a 
been only one death out of a hundred and ninety- 
six patients in the last ten days, and that was a 
man wounded at Manassas. The last few days we 
have been very busy in getting ready the wounded, 
nursing them up in every way, so as to get them 
home. There are several who cannot live here 
but a week or two; but we feel as if the idea of 
getting under the old flag will revive them suffi¬ 
ciently, at any rate, to see their wives if they go 
to meet them. 

E. H. R. R. 


Jan. 15, 1862. 

I have just come from the boat where a hun¬ 
dred and forty-eight of the prisoners are about to 
leave to-morrow. I went to the jail yesterday, 
and spent four or five hours with our friends. 
Paul and the rest are well, but look rather pale 
from their close confinement. They are in good 

8piritS - E. H. B. B. 


86 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


Jan. 27, 1862. 

I have received the cod-liver oil, &c., from the 
State, which I shall forward to Salisbury, N. 0.; 
the majority of our men being there, and the hos¬ 
pitals here having been supplied by the United- 
States Sanitary Commission. Peirson received 
the news of his being exchanged yesterday; and he 
starts for Washington to morrow, where he ex¬ 
pects to be detained some time, as he is deter¬ 
mined to do something for the relief of Paul and 
the colonel, if it is a possible thing. I cannot 
help feeling that the testimony of an eye-witness 
of their miserable condition will have some effect 
on the government. He will remain there until 
he finds out whether they will do any thing or not. 

Dr. Fletcher and myself were returned to the 
prison last Monday; there being no further use 
for our services there now, having two Confed¬ 
erate surgeons here, and only about fifty patients. 
The week before we came in, we moved a hundred 
and fifty of the sick and wounded down to the 
boat, and saw them start safely on their way: we 
also moved the sick that were left into another 
hospital, organized it, and got it started in good 
shape. I have not seen Paul since last Sunday, 
but have a permit to visit them to morrow. Peir¬ 
son was there to-day to bid them good-bye, and 
reports them all well. 


E. H. R. R. 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


87 


Jan. 27. 

Dr. Fletcher and I had a run out for about 
three weeks, visiting the hospitals, but were igno- 
miniously returned to prison after having shipped 
off home a hundred and fifty of the sick and 
wounded, and removed fifty more across the street, 
selected the stewards and nurses, and got the hos¬ 
pital in good running-order. The reason given 
was, that the commander of the post would not 
have two surgeons under pay, loafing about doing 
nothing; whilst we were doing all the work. I 
was not very sorry to get back again into the old 
quarters, excepting for the sake of the men, who 
enjoyed having their own surgeons. 

E. H. R. R. 

To quote now from Mrs. Revere’s 
journal: 

“Colonel Lee and Paul were among 
those hostages. They were waited on in 
the tobacco-house one Sunday afternoon 
early in November, and told that the trial 
was proceeding in New York, on which 
their lives depended. If the privateers 
were condemned and hung, their fate 
would be the same. General Winder, the 
officer sent to make known their cruel and 
critical position, informed them that they 


88 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


should have time to write to their friends, 
and then they were to be removed to the 
county jail on prison fare. There were 
seven officers chosen by lot to go together 
to this wretched place. The letters they 
wrote were calm, but expressive of their 
sense of the perilous situation they were 
in. Colonel Lee asked General Winder, 
whom he had known at West Point, if his 
quarters would be more uncomfortable 
than those at the tobacco-house, where 
seventy-five men lived in one room. The 
answer was, that he would have his apart¬ 
ment prepared, and a servant to wait on 
him. No words but those of common 
courtesy—and dignified, as became the 
occasion—passed between these old ac¬ 
quaintances. The Colonel asked no favors 
for himself or the others; but he was 
deluded by the ready promises given him 
of proper treatment, and went, on the 
10th of November, to Henrico-county 
jail, hoping that quiet and privacy would 
compensate for space. They heard the 
key turned upon them, and were left — 
without seats, or a single comfort—stand- 



REVERE MEMORIAL 


89 


ing on a floor just washed from hens’ and 
various filth. Some hours later the jailor 
appeared; and Colonel Lee asked for the 
apartment General Winder had promised 
him. He answered, this was all the room 
they were to have. 4 Fourteen slaves had 
been very comfortable there last summer.’ 
They saw at once what they were to 
expect. They did not leave that room, 
for any purpose, for several days. The 
atmosphere became intolerable, aggra¬ 
vated by the smoke of pine-knots burned 
in the room under theirs. They were 
denied the use of their own money for 
the procuring of any comfort; and no 
washing of clothes was allowed them. 
Indeed, they had no change of garments, 
and were compelled to endure the visita¬ 
tion of every form of vermin; among 
others, of rats running over them as soon 
as the lights were put out at night. For¬ 
tunately Captain K-, one of their 

company, was so much afraid of rats that 
he was glad to keep awake, and beat them 
off. Before long the three unfortunate 
prisoners under them were removed, and 


90 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


eighteen miserable free negro women and 
children were brought from the country, 
and confined in this small cell, increasing 
the dreadful state of the air, and adding 
to the noise, and sense of misery. 

“ Colonel Lee, Paul, and the others, 
were in this prison, with little light or 
air (the opposite room filled with poor, 
low criminals), from the 10th of Novem¬ 
ber till the 5th of February. 

‘‘During these weary months, Paul 
maintained a spirit of cheerfulness, doing 
what he could to amuse and sustain his 
fellow-prisoners. Sometimes he would 
read to them, and sometimes tell stories. 
They had one volume of Shakspeare, 
which served them a good turn; and with 
the aid of Captain Bowman, another 
young man, the entertainments were 
varied with caricatures and songs, and all 
the fun they could make. And thus they 
kept up the noise and excitement to pre¬ 
vent depression, and while away the time. 

“They had one visit from General 
Winder in this place. He had been a 
fellow-student of Colonel Lee’s, at West 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


91 


Point, and knew that they were gentle¬ 
men. He entered, and said, 4 1 have called 
to see if you were comfortable, gentlemen.’ 
After a moment’s hesitation, Colonel Lee 
answered, 4 We accept this treatment at 
the hands of your government; ’ and Win - 
der retired, and refused, afterwards, to 
give a clergyman, who was a friend of 
Colonel Lee’s, the right to visit them,— 
a privilege not often refused to prisoners. 

44 Every morning Colonel Lee or Paul 
read a religious service from the Prayer 
Book; showing that they lived by faith 
in God’s power and love. After the first 
few days they were allowed to exercise 
half an hour, twice a day, in the gloomy 
yard that surrounded the jail. Paul 
enjoyed carrying sugar, or some little 
luxury, to the poor negro children pent 
up in the dirty cell under them. It was 
all he could do; but this was a comfort, 
taking him out of his own wretchedness 
for a moment. Stifled and crowded; with 
a little stove for cooking, that heated up 
the odors and the damps; small light by 
day, and utter darkness by night,— there 


92 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


they were, seven wasted men, for thirteen 
weeks, their lives hanging on a thread; 
not knowing any day, but, before its close 
they might be led out to death upon the 
gallows, yet dispelling their fears by 
Christian trust, and ministering to each 
other of true good cheer, and thus rising 
above their grievous load. It was a scene 
of unfailing courage and faith. Its heav¬ 
iness was lightened by the principles 
which were then tested and proved. How 
heavy that condition was may be imagined 
a little, when it is remembered that Dr. 
Revere, being allowed to go to the grating 
of the cell, one day, to speak with his 
brother, could hardly see through the dim 
aperture, or breathe the foul air. How 
they had survived, he said, he could not 
tell; how they had escaped sickness, or 
broken minds or powers. And for him¬ 
self, the suspense he had endured, antici¬ 
pating that each day might bring the 
news of his brother’s sentence, with the 
shock produced by the sight of the reality 
of his misery, left its stamp upon his face 
while he lived. A near friend exclaimed, 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


93 


4 Edward’s face has the look of one who 
has seen a terrible sight, never to be 
forgotten.’ ” 

The following account of their prison 
life is from the pen of a fellow-prisoner: 

44 On Sunday, November 10,1861, Gen. 
John H. Winder, commanding the De¬ 
partment of Richmond, accompanied by 
his staff, was observed to alight at the 
prison office. It being an unusual occur¬ 
rence for his visits to be attended with 
such ceremony, much surmise arose as to 
its cause. A few moments elapsed, and 
he entered the building, attended by the 
staff in full dress uniform. Directing one 
of them to clear the room of all persons 
excepting the Federal officers, he took a 
position in the center of the floor, and 
announced that he had a most unpleasant 
duty to perform. He then read the fol¬ 
lowing order from the Confederate War 
Department: 

C. S. War Department, 

Richmond, Nov. 8 , 1861 . 

Sir, —You are hereby instructed to choose by 
lot, from among the prisoners-of-war of the high- 


94 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


est rank, one, who is to be confined in a cell ap¬ 
propriated to convicted felons; and who is to be 
treated in all respects as if such convict; and to be 
held for execution in the same manner as may be 
adopted by the enemy for the execution of the 
prisoner-of-war, Smith, recenlty condemned to 
death in Philadelphia. You will also select thir¬ 
teen other prisoners-of-war, the highest in rank of 
those captured by our forces, to be confined in the 
cells reserved for prisoners accused of infamous 
crimes; and will treat them as such so long as the 
enemy shall continue so to treat the like number 
of prisoners-ofwar- captured by them at sea, and 
now for trial in New York as pirates. As these 
measures are intended to repress the infamous at¬ 
tempt now made by the enemy to commit judicial 
murder on prisoners-of-war, you will execute them 
strictly, as the mode best calculated to prevent the 
commission of so heinous a crime. 

Your obedient servant, 

J. P. Benjamin, 

Acting Secretary of War. 

To Brig.-Gen. John H. Winder, 

Richmond, Va. 

“Announcing that it was necessary to 
draw by lot the name of one of the five 
Federal colonels, prisoners-of-war, to be 
held as a hostage for Smith, General Win¬ 
der caused the names of the officers to be 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


95 


written on separate slips of paper, which 
were placed in a tin case, from which 
Hon. Mr. Ely was requested to draw one of 
the names. It was Col. Michael Corcoran, 
Sixty-ninth New-York State Militia. 

“ General Winder then stated, that, as 
only ten Federal field-officers were held 
as prisoners-of-war, three captains would 
be chosen by lot to complete the required 
quota of hostages. Captains Rock wood, 
Ricketts, and McQuaid were chosen. 
With imperfect information, and indis¬ 
tinct hearing of the order as read, we 
looked on in silence during the ceremony. 
But as the names of Colonels Lee and 
Cogswell were called, under whose com¬ 
mand we had stood upon the battle-field, 
and for whom respect, admiration, and 
esteem were blended in our hearts, sad¬ 
ness, sorrow, and sympathy were dis¬ 
played in the features of every member of 
that little crowd. Yet when we saw the 
cheerful countenance of Colonel Lee, and 
the quiet equanimity of Colonel Cogswell 
undisturbed, the shadow of portending 
evil seemed to disappear. 


SEVERE MEMORIAL 


9<> 


“ When General Winder and his aides 
left the room, we gathered in groups, 
eagerly discussing the principles of the 
policy, its bearing, causes, and effects; 
and, ere the day closed, we looked upon 
the subject with increasing cheerfulness 
and confidence, fully believing that our 
government would not allow those veter¬ 
an officers to be long confined in a felon’s 
cell, or to suffer a felon’s doom. 

u On the 12th of November, General 
Winder again visited us, and held another 
drawing, to choose two officers in lieu of 
Captains Ricketts and McQuaid, who 
were wounded at Manassas, and who, at 
the time of drawing, were confined by 
their wounds to the hospital. Captains 
Bowman and Keffer were chosen, making 
the list of hostages as follows; viz : 

Col. Michael Corcoran, 69th Regt, N. Y. State Militia. 

Col. M. Cogswell, 42d Regt. N. Y. Volunteers. 

Col. W. Raymond Lee, 20th Regt. Mass. Volunteers. 

Col. W. E. Woodruff, 2d Regt. Ky. Volunteers. 

Col. A. M. Wood, 14th Regt. N. Y. State Militia 

Col. Orlando B. Wilcox, 1st Regt. Mich. Volunteers. 

Lieut.-Col. G. W. Neff, 2d Regt. Ky. Volunteers. 

Lieut.-Col. Samuel Bowman, 8th Regt. Penn. Volunteers. 




REVERE MEMORIAL 


97 


Maj. James D. Porter, 38th Regt. N. Y. Volunteers. 

Maj. Paul. J. Revere, 20th Regt. Mass. Vols. 

Maj. Israel Vodges, U. S. Artillery. 

Capt. Henry Bowman, 15th Regt. Mass. Volunteers. 

Capt. George W. Rockwood, 15th Regt. Mass. Volunteers. 

Capt. Francis J. Keffer, Colonel Baker’s Cal. Regiment. 

“The hostages, one and all, bore 
themselves with manly pride and hardy 
patriotism, willing to suffer whenever and 
wherever the interests of their govern¬ 
ment required the sacrifice. 

“On the 14th of November we were 
called upon to bid them farewell. As 
they passed from the room, we grasped 
each hand in silence; for though the heart 
was steeled, and the purpose steady, we 
could not, without emotions of heartfelt 
sympathy, see gray hairs, honored at 
home, and young spirits flashing but a 
month ago in the eager strife of war, go 
to a prison cell. 

“The cell in Henrico-county jail, in 
which (seven in number) they are con¬ 
fined, is seventeen feet long by eleven 
feet wide. It has two windows, each 
twenty-four inches square, protected by 
transverse iron bars, opening upon a high 


98 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


wall, enclosing the prison’s narrow yard, 
affording them only six hours of daylight 
in which to read or write; and, to do 
either at any hour of the day, it is neces¬ 
sary for them to cluster closely round the 
window. Previous to leaving the ware¬ 
house, they purchased camp cots of the 
smallest size, which, when spread out at 
night, entirely occupy the cell in the 
prison, leaving no space to move around. 

“In the morning they are allowed to 
remove the cots to the corridor; and the 
rough pine benches which they occupy 
during the day, and which are removed at 
night, clutter up the room to such an 
extent, that the usual prison privilege of 
pacing the floor is denied them. They 
are allowed twenty minutes each, in the 
morning and afternoon, to exercise in the 
prison yard, four feet wide, extending 
around the building, which is of square 
form and massive structure. They are 
furnished the usual jail-rations, consist¬ 
ing of bacon and corn-bread, and are not 
permitted to supply their table with food 
at their own expense. Yet, finding their 




REVERE MEMORIAL 


99 


jailer not insensible to bribes, they have 
purchased from him the privilege of buy¬ 
ing food, which he has cooked, and serves 
to them at a stipulated price per day. 
This jailer is a coarse, ruffianly drunken 
sot, who reads their letters, and proclaims 
their domestic affairs throughout the 
brothels of Richmond. On one occasion, 
delivering a letter he remarked, 4 Colonel, 
your wife writes in fine spirits; keep 
yours up.’ 

“Below the room occupied by the 
hostages are two cells, constantly filled by 
drunken negroes, white felons, criminal 
women of every color and caste, mingled 
together in filth, stench, and vermin. In 
one cell, the same size as that of the hos¬ 
tages, four negro women and fourteen 
children are confined. Their husbands 
and parents being within the Federal 
lines, they were removed to Richmond. 
The stench from these cells rises to that 
of the hostages, making the atmosphere 
nauseating and stifling, both day and 
night. The j ail - yard is used for whipping 
the negroes of Richmond; and the whip- 


100 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


ping-post is under the window of their 
cell, where they hear the agonized yells 
of the poor negroes. The building is filled 
with body vermin; and at night it is 
sometimes impossible to sleep, owing to 
the rats scampering over their beds. 
Other privations too disgusting for these 
pages are endured by them, making the 
heart sick at the contemplation of their 
brutal treatment. 

“As information was received by us of 
the sufferings and privations of the hos¬ 
tages, it elicited from all the deepest 
sympathy, which did not expend itself in 
useless repinings. Seven warm hearts 
nobly responded to the promptings of 
sympathy. An earnest and affecting 
petition to the Confederate War Depart¬ 
ment was drawn up, soliciting the substi¬ 
tution of the names subscribed in lieu of 
those already confined as hostages. It 
represented the increasing ill health of 
those officers; alluded to their age, and to 
their superiority in rank to privateers; 
contrasted their condition and treatment 
with that of the latter; and concluded 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


101 


with a warm appeal, based upon human¬ 
ity, for the privilege of being held as 
substitutes for the hostages. The names 
of the young officers who so freely 
proffered themselves as substitutes are as 
follows: 

Capt. John Markoe, Colonel Baker’s Cal. Regiment, 

Adjt. Charles L. Peirson, Mass. 20th Volunteers. 

Lieut. William E. Merrill, U. S. Engineers. 

Lieut. George B. Perry, 20th Regt. Mass. Volunteers. 

Lieut. J. Harris Hooper, 15th Regt. Mass. Volunteers. 

Lieut. J. E. Greene, 15th Regt. Msss. Volunteers. 

Lieut. Charles M. Hooper, Colonel Baker’s Cal. Regiment. 

“ In a few days a verbal and monosyl¬ 
labic reply came, ‘No.’ 

“When Mr. Faulkner returned from 
the North, in December, he visited them, 
and obtained permission from the officer 
commanding the prison to visit the jail 
weekly. For nearly two months, they 
were not allowed to communicate in 
person with their subordinate officers. 
Finally, owing to authentic information 
from the North, affirming the comparative 
comfort of the privateers, permission was 
granted Adjutant Peirson of the Twen¬ 
tieth Massachusetts Regiment, Mr. Ely, 


102 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


and Dr. E. H. R. Revere, Massachusetts 
Twentieth Regiment, to visit them from 
time to time. 

u On the 4th of February, we were 
astounded by the pleasing intelligence 
that the hostages would be restored to the 
warehouse. On the morning of the 5th, 
we were startled by three loud cheers, 
given with a will by the privates in an 
adjacent warehouse. We rushed to the 
windows, and saw the hostages approach¬ 
ing the prison. In a few minutes they 
entered. Can we ever forget the scene? 
Its hearty gladness would have repaid, 
almost, for a lifetime of suffering. The 
pale features of the hostages seemed to 
light up with pride and gratitude at the 
greeting of affection and sympathy. And 
as the little band clustered around them, 
and listened to their narration of daily 
suffering and privations, the scene pre¬ 
sented a picture honorable to the manhood 
and creditable to the heart of every officer 
present. As yet they were not assured of 
their permanent release as hostages, hav¬ 
ing been informed by the authorities that 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


103 


their removal from jail was merely tem¬ 
porary, and arose from the necessity of 
cleansing and fumigating the prison cells. 
Subsequent information through the 
Richmond papers of the release of the 
privateers in the North confirmed us in 
the belief that we should have them with 
us until sent, rejoicing ‘homeward bound.’ 

u On February 5th the hostages were 
returned to the warehouse, their old 
prison, in order that the felon cell in the 
county prison might be cleaned; but they 
never returned to occupy it. In a few 
days the Richmond papers reproduced 
from those of New York the intelligence 
that the rebel privateersmen (the greater 
part of them, by the way, were New-York 
wharf-thieves) had been released from 
confinement as pirates, and turned over 
to the navy department as prisoners-of - 
war. On Thursday, February 20th, it 
was officially announced that all the 
prisoners-of-war would be forwarded to 
Fortress Monroe on the following Satur¬ 
day; and, late in the evening of that day 
(Thursday), General Randolph personally 


104 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


and kindly called at the prison to inform 
Revere that he and his associate hostages 
would go home with the other prisoners. 
Accordingly on Saturday all military pris¬ 
oners in Richmond were embarked on a 
steamer, and at seven o’clock p. m., were 
steaming down the James River; and the 
next morning they once more came under 
the Union flag.” 


Richmond, Feb. 18, 1862. 

I have not written of our transfer from the 
jail to the warehouse for the reason that we have 
expected every hour, for the last ten days, that the 
officers to be exchanged would receive their orders 
to go. We were transferred from the jail on 
Wednesday, Feb. 5, for a few days, as we were 
informed, to allow an opportunity for the fumi¬ 
gation of that institution. We still remain as 
hostages, though in the warehouse: this is official 
information from the officer in charge of prison¬ 
ers. We suppose the intention of the Confederate 
States government to be, to obtain a practical 
proof of the good faith of our government in re¬ 
gard to the privateers, by obtaining some of them 
in exchange. One reason for this belief is, that, 
after the list of privates was sent to be examined, 
the names of all sailors were struck off; they only 


REVERE MEMORIAL. 


105 


to be exchanged for Confederate sailors. As you 
may suppose, the move from jail was most satis¬ 
factory. I was much disappointed at Edward’s 
name not being on the list, as several surgeons 
have lately been paroled by our government; but 
nothing is more certain than, that no exchange, 
either for him or any of us, except man for man, 
will be effected; and we, here, know from experi¬ 
ence that exchanges are brought about by per¬ 
sonal application backed by influence. 

P. J. R. 

Sunday, Feb. 24, 1862. 

I write to you from on board the steamboat 
bound to Baltimore. I telegraph tomorrow morn¬ 
ing. All the prisoners in Richmond were released 
on parole yesterday, and arrived at Fort Monroe 
this afternoon. We are well, and, as you may 
suppose, in good spirits. I received your note at 
Fort Monroe, and cannot tell you the relief of 
knowing that all had gone well with Lu. I know 
how great a pleasure it is to her to have a daugh¬ 
ter, and I share it fully. If all continues well, I 
shall probably be at home the last of the week. 
We must go to Washington at once; and, as we 
are not yet exchanged, I cannot judge how long a 
time may be occupied in bringing about an ex¬ 
change. We can hardly realize our present po¬ 
sition ; the change in the tone of the Confederate 


106 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


authorities on the capture of so many prisoners 
by our forces having been so sudden. As I wrote 
you, they begun to soften on Tuesday last: they, 
however, continued their personal indignity to the 
last, never having released us from the position of 
hostages formally. However, it does not matter 
now, and they never for a moment, with all their 
outrages, made one of us forget our position as 
gentlemen. 

P. J. R. 


Gladly did they leave their forlorn 
quarters in Richmond, turning their faces 
homeward. 

It was so arranged, that they passed 
the forts below the city, along the river, 
at night, to conceal the preparations for 
defence. A sudden panic of the rebel 
government led to their release,— a panic 
quickly allayed; since, as was afterwards 
known, orders were issued for their 
detention before they had left the city 
limits. But it was too late. They were 
safely embarked, and the morning found 
them at the fortress; while, as it proved, 
others less fortunate in getting away at 
once were detained for months. 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


107 


On their arrival at this point, Paul 
heard of the birth of a daughter,—a great 
relief to his anxieties for those at home. 
He, with his brother, arrived in Boston 
on the evening of the 28th of February, 
1862. They were worn and old-looking, 
with the strange expression those carry 
who have been in confinement, or under 
a great pressure of care, but full of happi¬ 
ness at their restoration, and greatly 
blessed in finding their father had borne 
their trial with the firmest spirit, sus¬ 
tained as he had been, not a little, by a 
grateful sense of their own fortitude and 
faith. The kindness of friends, and the 
sympathy of the public, were pleasant 
additions to this little interval of rest 
among those they loved. Little by little 
their strength was renewed; and some¬ 
thing of the tone and manner of former 
days returned. But youth had gone out 
of them wonderfully; and the long excite - 
ment of feeling, and irritation of nerves, 
was followed by a re-action, showing 
itself in silence and listlessness, and dull 
lines about the face that were sad to see. 


108 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


Two months of quiet at home, and of 
constant attentions abroad, however, were 
soon over; and then their exchange, for 
which they grew impatient, was effected. 
The general policy of the Union govern¬ 
ment, at that time, did not seemingly 
encourage exchanges; they could only be 
obtained by energetic personal effort. 
Accordingly, accompanied by a brother 
officer (also a paroled prisoner), Major 
Revere proceeded to Fort Warren, and 
selected three Confederate officers of 
proper rank to exchange for Colonel Lee, 
Major and Dr. Revere. Colonel Lee’s 
application to Secretary Stanton, that the 
selected officers might be released from 
Fort Warren, and permitted to proceed 
to Richmond, under a pledge of honor to 
return, and report in person to Colonel 
Dimick, at Fort Warren, within fifteen 
days, or send to General Wool, at Fortress 
Monroe, an order from the Richmond 
government, confirming the conditional 
exchange, was granted by Mr. Stanton. 
The pledge of Colonel Baldwin of Vir¬ 
ginia, and his associates, was honorably 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


109 


redeemed. The official exchanges of the 
Union officers were duly transmitted to 
General Wool; and on May 2d, 1862, the 
three officers of the Twentieth reported 
for duty with their regiment, then in the 
lines before Yorktown. It was a season 
of great and new interest. The first 
reverses we had met with were being fol¬ 
lowed, as the spring opened, by occasional 
success. The gloom under which the 
country had groaned was passing away; 
and every one who had a place on the field 
unfilled was solicitous not to be left 
behind. “I remember,” says a friend, 
u after our forces had landed in North 
Carolina, and the battle of Newbern had 
spread joy and hope at the North, hearing 
Paul read the account of it in the news¬ 
paper. His face lighted up, and he ex¬ 
claimed, ‘ Oh, I am so glad that the rebs 
have learned that they must run before 
us at last! I wish that I had been there 
to see their backs! ’ ” 

The army under McClellan had moved 
down to the peninsula. “ Our boys,” as 
we called them, were anxious to be in the 


110 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


midst of those stirring scenes. Their 
orders came — none too early for them — 
to report at the headquarters of their old 
command, in the Army of the Potomac. 
They hastened back, full of zeal, to share 
in the conflict and the glory, quickened 
by the reports of the advance upon York- 
town, and hoping to be present at the fall 
of Richmond, where they had suffered so 
much. 

The day of their departure was the 
last day of April. It was their father’s 
birthday, at the completion of his eighty- 
fifth year. They dined with him, and rose 
to leave; when he blessed them, and gave 
them strong, encouraging words. One 
who was present thus describes the scene: 
“It being Mr. Revere’s birthday, all his 
children had dined with him. A feeling 
of sadness, in view of Paul’s and Edward’s 
departure for the field that afternoon, 
hung over all; yet everyone was quiet, 
and tried to be cheerful. At the end of 
dinner, as there was a little pause before 
rising, Mr. Revere, who had been silent 
till then, turned to his sons, and said, 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


111 


1 This day I am eighty-five years old. It 
is a great age, and it is extraordinary that 
I have reached it. I remember the sur¬ 
render of Cornwallis. I heard, one night, 
the watchman cry out in the street (he 
was a German sort of fellow, a Dutchman), 
“Half-past three o’clock of a cloudy 
morning, and Cornwallis taken! ” There 
are few now living who can remember 
this. You are going to the scene of that 
surrender at Yorktown. You will do your 
duty; and you will return (though I can 
hardly except to see you) all that I could 
wish. God bless you both! Pass the 
wine to Edward and Paul. Now drink 
with me, my sons.’ And having bowed 
to each of them, and raised his glass in 
his old, courtly way, he added, 4 Pass the 
wine to others. This was merely a mat¬ 
ter between the boys and me. I have 
done all that I shall do to-day.’ The 
room was as still as death, and the whole 
thing unspeakably affecting. I can see 
Paul’s dignified air, and pale, calm face; 
and Edward, leaning forward, intently 
hanging upon every word his father said. 


112 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


They went to do their duty. And they 
returned all that he could wish,— not for 
this world, but for the other.” 

They reached Yorktown in time to aid 
in planting the colors of the Twentieth 
Regiment on the heights, when the rebels 
evacuated that place. They took an ac¬ 
tive part in all the battles of that cam¬ 
paign, and bore their full share of its 
memorable trials, suffering the great 
disappointment of a retreat, after having 
been within sound of the bells of Rich¬ 
mond, into which city, considering all 
they had lately endured there, they so 
ardently desired to enter victorious. 
References to their gallantry in those 
fights of the seven-days’ march to the 
new base on the James River will be 
found in the notices from different pens, 
which appeared after their death. 

Camp opposite Yorktown, May 5, 1862. 

I have not written since I left Fort Munroe, as 
we have been very busy. We arrived at camp 
Friday night, and went on picket the next morn¬ 
ing, it being the turn of our brigade. It was a 
pretty long day, although there was a good deal 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


113 


of firing both with rifles and heavy guns. I could 
see the rebels working their guns perfectly 
plainly, with a glass. We were called up about 
four o’clock, Sunday morning, by the firing of the 
outer pickets, and remained under arms until six 
or seven o’clock, when we received notice that the 
enemy had left their forts; and we were immedi¬ 
ately ordered over to take possession, which we 
accordingly did; the colonel running ahead, Dr. 
Crehore, Hayward, and I bringing up the rear. 
We found quite formidable earthworks extending 
for a long distance, with rifle-pits and occasional 
forts. We remained there about three hours, 
when we were ordered back to our old camp to 
pack up, and be ready to start. We waited all 
day, with a great deal of impatience, until dark; 
when we gave up, and made ourselves as comfort¬ 
able as possible with our india-rubber cloths and 
a fire. This morning we were waked up by the 
rain dripping through our shelter. We were 
ordered to march at seven o’clock for Yorktown, 
and are now in camp about three-quarters of a 
mile from there; it was in plain sight as we 
marched into the field where we are in camp; and 
we can see the masts of the vessels in York River 
from the next field. 

We are in the reserve now, and do not know 
when we shall start again, but probably immedi¬ 
ately. On our way up, we reported at General 


114 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


McClellan’s headquarters, but did not see him. 
We then went on to report to General Sumner, in 
whose corps we are. We remain in Dana’s Bri¬ 
gade. We saw him, also General Sedgwick of our 
division, at General Sumner’s headquarters. You 
can form no idea of the excitement of the time, 
the number of troops constantly passing; there 
has been a constant stream pouring in from every 
road since early this morning, and probably all 
day yesterday. Our particular baggage-train is 
stuck somewhere in the mud; but we have got our 
blankets along with us, and shall get on well 
enough. We can hear artillery in front con¬ 
stantly, not a minute passing without a report, 
and sometimes a continuous roar. I have not 
been able to get a horse yet, but shall the first 
opportunity. 

E. H. R. R. 

Thursday, May 8. 

We started Monday morning at seven. It had 
rained all night, and continued to rain all day. 
The mud was inexpressible. We reached York- 
town in a few hours. We were ordered to march 
just before dark, but remained in the rain and 
mud all night, and embarked at Yorktown, Tues¬ 
day, at four in the aftenoon. 

We had a very comfortable time up York 
River; had state-rooms and mattresses, and dis¬ 
embarked next morning at six o’clock with all the 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


115 


troops, and now remain at or near West Point. 
You must be very careful not to communicate any 
thing that can be construed as military informa¬ 
tion. There was some skirmishing in the advance 
of our division; but, as we belong to the reserve, 
we saw nothing of it. Every thing has been quiet 
since. I am very well indeed, and have not felt 
the fatigue in the least; though we have had a 
pretty hard time for the last four days. We came 
down from Baltimore with Brig.-Gen. Patterson, 
who obtained transportation to the front from 
near Ship Point, where we landed from Fort Mon¬ 
roe, and shared it with us: so we came on without 
delay. It seems strange to realize that we are 
within thirty miles of our winter-quarters, and 
under such different circumstances. I know that 
you were not disappointed to hear of the evacua¬ 
tion of Yorktown. I have written a most ramb¬ 
ling letter; but the change from quiet to bustle is 
so complete and sudden as to make it difficult 
to remember any thing connectedly. 

x P. J. R. 

Sunday, May 11. 

I wrote to you on the 8th from West Point. 
Next day we marched about two miles, and en¬ 
camped, where we are now. We have had a 
pretty hard time, owing, in a great extent, to want 
of food. The whole army having been pushed for- 


116 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


ward at once, it has been impossible to get up 
the supply-trains. I think I never eat less in a 
week, when well, than in the last seven days, not 
excepting my experience last winter. The sup¬ 
plies arrived this morning. I had a good break¬ 
fast, and feel as good as new. We are having 
splendid weather. The country is just as with us 
in June. We have gotten beyond the low, 
swampy ground of the peninsula, into a fine, roll¬ 
ing, dry country. The army treads down vege¬ 
tation in its immediate vicinity pretty thor¬ 
oughly, when encamped; though, as we march, 
every thing looks finely. We march through very 
large fields, often many hundred acres, separated 
by wooded districts. In the fields, grain and 
clover are springing up, giving a fresh ap¬ 
pearance to the whole surface. I only discovered 
when I began to write that today is Sunday,—a 
very different scene from that with you. I am 
writing during church j time at home; and, though 
our regiment is quiet today, the sights and sounds 
are not very suggestive of Sunday. 

Our stay at Yorktown was quite interesting; 
the old lines of attack during the Revolution 
being still very distinct. We found General Sum¬ 
ner’s headquarters under some old apple-trees, 
where stood the house in which General Washing¬ 
ton’s headquarters were. 

We arrived at the regiment just at dark. They 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


117 


had no idea of our arrival. As we brought the 
news of our exchange, the officers were as much 
delighted as men could be. They had become dis¬ 
couraged, hearing that the colonel would not be 
exchanged. The regiment is in fine spirits now, 
though small. 

P. J. R. 

Camp Two Miles West of Cumberland, 
May 19, 1862. 

We left our camp in the woods yesterday, and 
marched here,—about three miles. Dr. Crehore 
and I, being detained at the camp after the regi¬ 
ment left, took a little excursion around the 
country before we found it, going two or three 
miles out of our way. I have not been able to get 
a horse, but enjoyed the walk very much, although 
the day was very warm. We have a nice ground 
here, high and dry. It has rained all day; but 
our tents have been dry, as the water drains off 
well. I suppose that we shall march again to¬ 
morrow, if not tonight, as some of the divisions 
left this morning. I went up to the general’s 
headquarters last night at sundown; and a more 
beautiful view I never saw. The trees are out in 
leaf, and the tops could be seen rising in the dis¬ 
tance out through the mist which comes from all 
the valleys, looking almost as if they arose from 
an ocean; and in the foreground the troops—some 
fifteen thousand—going through their evening 


118 


SEVERE MEMORIAL 


parade, and beyond them the masts of the vessels, 
and an occasional glimpse of the river, with a 
steamboat passing up. E. H. R. R. 

May 22. 

We marched, Wednesday, some ten miles; and 
are now fourteen miles from Richmond, the ad¬ 
vance being much nearer. P. J. R. 

Monday, June 2. 

Saturday afternoon, hearing considerable 
firing, our division was ordered to move. We 
crossed the Ohickahominy, and advanced about 
three miles, and engaged the enemy at a place 
called Fair Oaks. The regiment behaved ad¬ 
mirably. We completely routed the enemy, 
driving him from the field, on which we slept. 
We have lost from fifteen to twenty men, not more 
than six killed; no officer wounded. Sunday 
morning the enemy attacked in great force, but 
was repulsed with great loss. The fighting was 
very severe, and lasted several hours. We were 
not in the heaviest, and lost but two men. We 
slept again on the field, expecting the attack to be 
renewed this morning; but, during the night, the 
enemy, having had enough, retired. I must de¬ 
vote a few hours to sleep. I am well, as is Ed¬ 
ward and the colonel. Peirson wrote night before 
last, and Palfrey telegraphed. 


P. J. R. 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


119 


Camp at Fair Oaks, June 2. 

Saturday we crossed the river, and in about 
two miles came up to the batle-field. Our regi¬ 
ment was immediately deployed; and Dr. Orehore 
and I prepared to take care of the wounded, who 
were coming in fast from the regiments engaged. 
Dr. Crehore and I went to the hospital, and did 
all we could, until I got word from the colonel to 
come down to the camp, as he had a lot of prison¬ 
ers badly wounded. I went down and attended 
to them, and returned to the hospital, where I re¬ 
mained until daylight, there being a constant 
stream of wounded; and, although there were 
fifteen or twenty surgeons, they could not begin to 
dress one-half of the wounds. Yesterday the 
fighting recommenced about seven, and lasted, 
with more or less violence, all day; but the enemy 
were driven on all quarters, although they fought 
desperately, and renewed the attack again and 
again. Our regiment was not immediately en¬ 
gaged, but in support of the batteries. We re¬ 
mained under arms all night; but this morning 
the enemy had gone. We could hear them talking 
and giving orders, all night; and the trains 
coming and going, we supposed bringing up rein¬ 
forcements. The woods, for a circuit of two 
miles, are filled with dead and wounded, who are 
being constantly brought in. 


E. H. R. R. 


120 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


Thursday, June 5. 

It has rained for the last twenty-six hours con¬ 
stantly. We remain at Fair Oaks as when I last 
wrote. It would be difficult to imagine one’s self 
on a campaign less accompanied by luxury than 
this. We moved from our camp last Saturday at 
short notice; since which, as all transportation 
must at first be devoted to ammunition, we have 
seen nothing of our effects but such as were with 
us. I had obtained a pack-horse that day, and 
brought along some cooking-utensils: so we have 
been able to cook whatever food we had. 

P. J. R. 

Camp Fair Oaks, June 8. 

Last Tuesday I was detailed from the regiment 
to see to the furnishing of the wounded with pro¬ 
visions, and to the cooking for them; also to get 
them on board the cars. I was relieved yester¬ 
day; and it really seemed like getting home to be 
with the regiment again, as the work has been 
pretty hard, and I have been in a state lor dering 
on starvation , as well as without sleep most of the 
time. The first time (from Saturday) I laid down 
to get my rest was Friday. Saturday and Sunday 
nights I slept all the time, and today feel as well 
as ever. When we started from our last camp, we 
had made but little preparation for feeding our¬ 
selves; and, when I left the regiment, I took 
nothing with me; and it was impossible to get any- 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


121 


thing to eat, excepting hard crackers and ship- 
bread, for the men whom I had hard at work all 
the time. Dr. Crehore wrote yesterday that I re¬ 
turned not feeling well; but it was an entire mis¬ 
take, as I was merely exhausted from over-work. 
Today we have been engaged fitting up our hos¬ 
pital knapsacks, and are ready for another en¬ 
gagement. 


E. H. R. R. 


June 9, 1862. 


Ever since our advance of and the battles of 
Saturday, May 31, and Sunday, June 1, we have 
been constantly under arms, night and day. The 
tremendous rains have prevented the coming-up 
of men and munitions. It has been necessary for 
the troops immediately opposed to the enemy to 
be constantly on the alert. Yesterday a general 
change in position strengthened our lines; and, 
for the first time, I slept all night. The hard 
work agrees with me wonderfully: as one of the 
officers said yesterday, I am growing fat on it. 
We are directly on the railroad: the cars run 
regularly; so that we have enough to eat at pres¬ 
ent. It is amusing to us to see the newspaper 
accounts of the battles; but the official reports will, 
sooner or later, state the facts as they exist. Gen¬ 
eral Sedgwick’s division is but little mentioned; 
though it is well understood in the army that 




122 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


their arrival on Saturday saved the day. We 
were immediately opposed to South-Carolina, 
Georgia, and other of their best troops. The 
General Pettigrew stated to have been captured 
by the New-York Sixty-ninth was wounded in 
front of our regiment, brought in by our men, and 
his wound attended to by Edward. He remained 
in our hands all night. Only two regiments of 
our brigade, the Twentieth and the Michigan 
Seventh, were in the battle. 

P. J. R. 

Fair Oaks, June 11. 

We still remain at the same camp; and al¬ 
though there have been plenty of shell flying, and 
some very near, no one on our side has been hit. 
Our regiment occupies some earthworks by the 
side of the railroad, thrown up within the last 
few days. The weather has been terrible ever since 
we have been here, wet, and the nights as cold as 
October. No one would recognize the country 
about here who had not seen it for a week, the 
woods are so cut down; and where, when we first 
came, it was almost an unbroken forest, there is 
now hardly a tree to be seen. They are not only 
cut down, but burned up for fires, used in cook¬ 
ing, and warming the men. We saw two regi¬ 
ments march out with axes; and, when they com¬ 
menced cutting, it was the most astonishing sight 
l ever saw, the woods falling like grass before the 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


123 


scythe, in regular order, as they marched on. I 
watched them through a glass for a long time. 
Dr. Crehore and I never leave the camp, not 
knowing what may happen at any moment. 

E. H. R. R. 

Friday, June 13, 1862. 

We all continue very well; though both offi¬ 
cers and men of our regiment are, or rather were, 
thoroughly tired. We were kept in the front 
from the time that we came up until Wednesday 
in the afternoon,—twelve days; every moment of 
which time we were under arms. It was a pretty 
hard session certainly; but, as we got through it 
without any serious permanent ill effects, it has 
been a valuable experience. It was really won¬ 
derful to observe the spirit of the men during the 
whole time. Though in immediate contact with 
the men, I did not hear one word of complaint, 
but, on the contrary, a constantly-expressed 
readiness to meet the enemy. As I have already 
said, we were relieved from our position in the 
front, Wednesday, and marched back to the 
second line, as we belong to the reserve. It was 
the sudden emergency that occasioned our corps 
to be sent to the front. The enemy took advan¬ 
tage of the tremendous rain-storm to attack that 
portion of the army which had crossed the Ohick- 
ahominy, in hopes that the freshet would prevent 


124 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


the rest of the army from crossing before those 
already over were beaten by superior numbers; 
and, but for the foresight of General Sumner, 
they would probably have succeeded. General 
Sumner has caused to be built an entirely new 
bridge, of which the enemy were probably un¬ 
aware, and on which he crossed, arriving just in 
time to drive back the enemy’s left wing, com¬ 
posed of their best troops, including the “Hamp¬ 
ton Legion,” their crack corps, to which General 
Pettigrew belonged. 

I have just been interrupted by notice for the 
regiment to be formed, in expectation of a visit 
from General McClellan. He came on the field 
on Sunday after the firing was over, and, as you 
may suppose, was most enthusiastically received. 

P. J. R. 

Camp Lincoln, June 18. 

The “let-up” from duty at the front for the last 
week has induced such a state of laziness, that I 
have put off writing. We had a pretty tiresome 
ten days after the battles of Saturday and Sunday; 
and I have improved the opportunity of a com¬ 
fortable bed to pass a good many hours in reading 
newspapers and general loafing. I find the can¬ 
vas sacking a most excellent institution: four 
crotchets driven into the ground, with length- 
poles between them, on which the canvas is 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


125 


stretched, gives just spring enough to be very 
comfortable. Joe Revere is encamped with his 
regiment just across the railroad from us, not 
more than half a mile. He came over a few days 
since to see us; and I went to see him day before 
yesterday, though I did not find him in camp. 
His regiment is very much reduced by their loss 
at Williamsburg and by sickness. The account 
of the battles in “The New-York Herald” of June 
12 which was sent to me is very correct; at least 
of the Saturday’s battle. On the night of the 
recent eclipse, there was an alarm from the pick¬ 
ets. We had all turned in with the moon full, 
and the sky without a cloud; and, when the alarm 
called us out, there was the sky as clear as ever, 
but “nary moon.” As no one had heard of the 
phenomenon, we began to think that the enemy 
had contrived some dodge for the concealment of 
their designs, the eclipse happening to be total. 

P. J. R. 

Camp Lincoln, June 26. 

Knowing how anxious you must be, owing to 
the accounts of the fight of yesterday which will 
be flying about, and supposing, of course, as we 
were not engaged, that the newspapers will have 
it that we are all killed or wounded, I thought 
that I would write you a few lines, although the 
colonel is writing. There was a general advance 
made of the whole left of the line yesterday, and 


126 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


the enemy were driven back a mile and a half. 
The firing of musketry was as heavy as any I al¬ 
most ever heard; and, although the enemy fought 
well, they were whipped at every point. Joe 
Revere was engaged; and, owing to the losses 
which his regiment met with at Williamsburg and 
here, it is reduced to two hundred and thirty men. 
He has only one captain left; the rest either killed 
or wounded, two being killed yesterday. Paul is 
dining with Joe today, his duty calling him to the 
neighborhood of his camp. I have entirely gotten 
over the diarrhoea, and feel as well as ever. The 
Nineteenth and the First Massachusetts were a 
good deal cut up; the Nineteenth losing about 
forty men; the first five officers wounded, and I 
do not know how many killed besides. We re¬ 
main in the same camp, and begin to feel afraid 
that they will leave us behind to guard the depot, 
even if an advance is made. I received a nice 
letter from John today, and am looking forward 
for one from you tomorrow. You do not know 
how much pleasure every one gives me, and how 
nice it is to hear every little incident from home. 
All our days run into one another, as we never 
take our clothes off except to wash and change 
them; and there is hardly a night passes without 
from one to four alarms, and all the men got 
under arms, the order being to fall in if there is 
any continued firing in front. 


E. H. R. R. 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


127 


Friday, June 27, 1862. 

I did not write to you yesterday as I intended, 
being all day in command of a working-party at 
the intrencliments. I found the place quite near 
Joe Revere’s camp, and took dinner with him. 
We still remain in the rear, protecting certain 
bread-boxes, &c. There has been a movement and 
an engagement on the extreme right of our lines 
on the other side of the Chickahominy, Porter’s 
division; and the enemy have been most essen¬ 
tially thrashed. All these movements are prob¬ 
ably strategic, and part of the steady advance, or 
rather enclosing of our lines, which, under Provi¬ 
dence, will result, as heretofore, in driving back 
the enemy. One more retreat like those at Ma¬ 
nassas, Yorktown, and Corinth, must result in 
their demoralization, which, as I have always 
thought, has been the consistent plan of General 
McClellan, rather than by tremendous attacks 
with his whole army, occasioning great loss of life, 
and risking defeat to annihilate the enemy. The 
weather continues very pleasant. We have had a 
cool, strong breeze every day; and at night I have 
slept under two blankets. 

P. J. R. 

Saturday, June 28, 1862. 

Today we are awaiting the result of an engage¬ 
ment on our right, Porter’s division. It is 
thought probable we may open communications 


128 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


with James River. I dare say the papers will be 
full of disastrous news, should this army move; 
but the facts are, that the army is in as good con¬ 
dition as it ever has been, full of confidence, and, 
should it become necessary to move to the left of 
James River, will still present a determined front 
to the enemy. Unless something much more im¬ 
portant than has yet occured happens, all will go 
well. 

P. J. R. 

Opposite City Point, July 1, 1862. 

After two days’ hard fighting, through God’s 
mercy, Paul, the colonel and myself are left with¬ 
out injury. Four of our officers are wounded: 
Lieut. Abbott, the arm slightly; Patten, leg below 
the knee slightly; Muller, foot slightly; Lowell, in 
bowels, probably mortally. It has been for the 
last few days very hard work, as we have been 
outnumbered; but our men have done their duty 
nobly, as we have been able in every instance to 
drive the enemy, and quiet him for a sufficient 
length of time for us to retire. The last two 
nights we have marched all night, and the night 
before we were on picket. 

E. H. R. R. 

July 1, 1862. 

I write from the immediate neighborhood of 
James River; to which place the army has moved, 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


129 


and where it now lies under cover of the gun¬ 
boats. We have had tremendous fighting. All 
the officers of our regiment, with the following ex¬ 
ceptions, are uninjured: Lieutenant Patten, 
slightly, Lieutenant Abbott slightly, Lieutenant 
Lowell mortally. Lieutenant Muller not come in, 
thought to be wounded in foot. There is no hope 
for Lowell. The above, although a general state¬ 
ment, must be taken as exact. 

P. J. R. 

Harrison's Landing, James River, July 6. 

Saturday atfernoon, June 28, I was sent, in 
command of a hundred and fifty men of our regi¬ 
ment to convey some car-loads of ammunition 
down the railroad to Savage's Station, about two 
miles or more to our rear; this occupied until 
about twelve o’clock at night. The next day Sedg¬ 
wick’s division made their appearance, moving 
down the railroad. They took up position with a 
part of Richardson’s division in the rear of a 
large plain, through which the railroad runs: the 
rest of the army had passed. About four o’clock 
the enemy appeared on our right and front. Two 
or three brigades were immediately thrown for¬ 
ward to the edge of the woods, beyond the plain, 
to meet them. Their artillery opened upon our 
batteries, in support of which we were. We lost 
four men wounded. The action soon became 

9 


130 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


general in front; and we were ordered forward to 
support a part of the line which seemed shaky. 
The result of the engagement was a complete re¬ 
pulse of the enemy. Immediately after dark all 
the troops were put in motion, and marched all 
night, crossing White-oak Swamp. At daylight 
we halted for two hours; then marched about two 
miles to Nelson’s Farm, where we halted for some 
hours. About two o’clock the enemy attacked; 
and, until after dark, a tremendous battle was 
fought, resulting, as that of Sunday, in the re¬ 
pulse of the enemy, with great loss of life on both 
sides. As you will have heard, our regiment suf¬ 
fered severely. Poor Lowell fell in the advance 
across a field; he fell close to me; and, as I passed 
him, he raised himself on his arm, and, waving his 
sword, shouted to his men to go forward. Most of 
the officers who were wounded received but slight 
wounds. 

Colonel Lee was knocked down by a wounded 
horse, and disabled: he was in command of our 
brigade, and directed me to act as his aide. After 
our first advance, and the driving back of the 
enemy, the Twentieth continued to advance until 
they were in danger of being surrounded by the 
enemy; when Colonel Lee sent me to bring up the 
rest of the brigade. This, of course, separated me 
from the regiment; and as they were forced to 
fall back before the other regiments came up, or 



REVERE MEMORIAL 


131 


rather as the other regiments did not get up, I did 
not rejoin them until after dark. I was entirely 
uninjured, though I lost two horses. My own 
horse was shot in crossing the first field. I found 
another in the woods in front; which was soon 
after wounded, but carried me nearly an hour. 
As soon as possible, we got our regiment together 
with the other regiments of the brigade, and com¬ 
menced another night-march. We marched all 
night, and found ourselves at daylight on another 
large field, on high, rolling ground. During the 
next few hours, the rest of the army came march¬ 
ing in in good order. Artillery and cavalry all 
right. All the wagon-trains had passed the day 
before. About nine to ten o’clock the enemy ap¬ 
peared; and immediately the whole army was 
drawn out, and the prospect of a great battle in an 
open space was before us. The engagement 
opened with artillery-fighting, which continued 
for some two hours; when the enemy apparently 
concluded that it was not an advisable oppor¬ 
tunity to make a general attack, and moved 
toward our left. Here, towards night, severe 
fighting occurred between Hooker and Kearney’s 
divisions and the enemy, who was finally driven 
back with loss. This part of the line was under 
the fire of the gunboats, distant about one mile. 
In the evening we were again silently put in 
march about eleven o’clock: the whole army 


132 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


marched, as before, silently down the river. It 
was long after daylight before the rear was fairly 
in march; but the enemy did not attack, showing 
they must have been driven well back on the pre¬ 
ceding night. About ten to eleven, a. m v began 
one of the tremendous rains peculiar to this part 
of the country, producing a condition of mud, 
worse, if it is possible, than any thing we have yet 
seen. We still had a march of several miles be¬ 
fore us; and as the regiments were marched in 
two columns, in the same road, they became much 
mixed up. We arrived at the James River in the 
afternoon at a place called Harrison’s Landing,— 
a most excellent specimen of the old James-river 
plantations, and one I remember to have noticed 
on our passage down last winter. A large, old- 
fashioned brick house, though furnished with mod¬ 
ern furniture, stands overlooking the river, with 
old trees in front, and immense unenclosed fields 
of many hundred acres extending some half-mile 
behind it, and down the river as far as one can 
see. On this plain the army immediately biv¬ 
ouacked by divisions. When we marched on to it, 
it was one great wheat-field, yellow with ripened 
grain, and looking most beautifully: the next day 
it was an immense mud-puddle; not a stalk of 
grain standing, and none had been cut. The place 
was very uncomfortable for the men; and on July 
4 we were marched back about three-quarters of 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


133 


a mile, and are now encamped on a large quick¬ 
running brook, a most excellent place, and where 
the men are fast recovering from their fatigue. 
The opportunity for bathing is invaluable. 

I have endeavored to give you a general idea of 
our movements for the last week, into which has 
been crowded so much of real war. I am very 
well, as is Edward. Colonel Lee has gone to For¬ 
tress Monroe. “The Philadelphia Inquirer” of 
July 5 contains a very correct account of the move¬ 
ments of the army during the past week, with due 
allowance for exaggerated language. 

P. J. R. 

July 7. 

I did not finish my letter yesterday. This is a 
beautiful morning, though the day is likely to 
prove warm. Thus far, there has been little or 
no suffering from heat. Of course it is very warm 
in the sun; but no day as yet without a good 
breeze, and always cool at night. I am more sur¬ 
prised at the absence of mosquitoes than at any 
thing else: I had expected to be devoured by them. 
You need have no anxiety for the position of the 
army here: it is very strong, and protected by the 
gunboats. No one here knows anything of our 
future movements; but every one believes all will 
go well sooner or later. The late experience of 
the army, with the great loss of life and accom¬ 
panying suffering, seems to have been necessary 


134 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


to convince the country of the wretched folly of 
interference with military movements on the part 
of politicians. I continue very well, and quite re¬ 
covered from the fatigues of last week. We have 
much cause, my dear wife, for renewed thankful¬ 
ness for being carried through all these trials: 
as I also feel for the well-being of all at home 
every time I receive a letter. P. J. R. 

Camp near James River, July 13. 

We still remain at the same camp; and it seems 
as if we should for some time: and every one 
seems to be settling down for a regular life; that 
is, making themselves as comfortable as possible. 
We suffered a great deal from the heat the first 
part of last week; but yesterday and to-day have 
been quite cool: in fact, I awoke last night really 
suffering from cold, as I had not put the blankets 
over me, although I had my clothes on. We are 
now indulging in the luxury of fresh onions, but 
have lived for the last three weeks in about as un¬ 
comfortable a manner as can be imagined, not hav¬ 
ing been able to procure any thing but what the 
commissary had in his stock, and that in very 
small quantities, as the provisions had not been 
delivered here, and we were cut off from our sup¬ 
plies at White House. I am feeling very well 
now; I think fully as well as at any time since I 
joined the army. E. H. R. R. 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


135 


Sunday, July 13, 1862. 

Since our arrival at James River, it has been 
to us a time of almost unbroken quiet, the more 
noticeable from the contrast with our position be¬ 
fore we moved in this direction. There, hardly 
an hour passed without firing of some kind: here, 
particularly at night, it is almost impossible to 
realize that one is surrounded by so many thou- 
asnds of men. I have not felt up to much work 
for several days, and have been keeping quiet: 
nothing particular the matter, but generally done 
up. Don’t imagine all kinds of illness incident to 
a Southern climate, &c. The same experience 
anywhere would have produced the same result. 

P. J. R. 

Sunday, July 20, 1862. 

I was not well last week, but am quite well 
again now. I was tired out, I suppose, but 
chiefly suffered from the severe fall received two 
days before we arrived here. I had, while feeling 
poorly, last week, an attack of neuralgia for three 
days in the side of my face, taking advantage of 
me,—of those teeth which I did not have attended 
to when I was at home. P. J. R. 

Gamp near Harrison's Landing, 
July 22, 1862. 

I have not written for several days, as I have 
been pretty busy, and have had a touch of neural- 


136 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


gia in my face. I think that I should have had 
the teeth vdiich ached out, if I had had any instru¬ 
ments when the pain commenced; but was very 
glad afterwards that I did not, as the pain left, 
after a few days using quinine, as suddenly as it 
came. Paul had a touch of it the week before, 
and was really miserable for a few days, but is 
now as well as ever. I think, with both of us, it 
was the re-action after the over-work which we 
had been having for the last few weeks. This 
camp, I think, is the healthiest we have been in 
since we came on to the Peninsula; and the men 
are gaining both in health and strength. There 
is a grand review of the whole army corps (I 
mean Sumner’s) today; and I am left in camp in 
charge of hospitals, and in case of accidents. 
Paul and I are in the same mess, and the last few 
days, have occupied the same tent; he having had 
my sacking swung in his, as it was more comfort¬ 
able than mine, having a fly over it which kept off 
the sun, and better than the cooper’s shop where 
we all eat, and take our afternoon nap, where 
there is always a great deal of noise, laughing and 
talking; and, when I had the pain in my face, it 
was not a little irritating. This cooper’s shop is 
merely a barn half full of staves, which we have 
used as flooring, and is intensely dirty; but we 
have torn off the boards about three feet from 
the ground, which makes a good draught through, 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


137 


and, owing to its having a wooden roof, is the 
most cool and comfortable place in the brigade, 
if not in the division, especially as we use the 
cool canvas stretchers for couches. The weather 
has been very hot most of the time; but then we 
have had a good air in moving, which has been a 
great relief. 

There was a little lieutenant, named Kenney, 
who was a prisoner with us, who was wounded in 
the stomach, and died the next day. He was 
about eighteen, and perfectly resigned to his fate, 
although suffering terribly. Paul has written to 
his mother and sister in Philadelphia. He was 
in Markoe’s regiment, and distinguished himself 
in every battle. He was a very religious person, 
and, all the time at Richmond, read his Bible and 
prayer-book every day. 

E. H. R. R. 

Sunday, July 27, 1862. 

I have quite recovered from my indisposition 
of a week ago. The fall, to which I ascribed it, 
was when the horse, which I picked up at Nelson’s 
Farm, went down. I did not receive any bruise: 
it was the jar of falling that affected me; and it 
only showed itself when the re action from fatigue 
occurred some days after. All effect of it is gone, 
and I am as well as ever. We are having the 
most entirely lazy time you can imagine; literally 


138 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


doing nothing. There is a good deal of sickness 
among the men still, but referable to their condi¬ 
tion before arriving here, and the lack of a suffi¬ 
cient supply of vegetables. I have received from 
General Sumner a most flattering offer of a place 
on his staff, perhaps the most important on it; 
and, should certain changes be completed which 
are now in progress as to his command, a place 
of much greater responsibility than the command 
of a regiment. The time is fast approaching 
when men in the army are to be measured by 
their capacity and willingness for service; and 
those found deficient will have to go to the wall. 
It will prove to have been any thing but fortunate 
for those who have been placed in positions of 
which they are not masters. As to myself, what¬ 
ever may fail to be accomplished for me through 
our State government, I have no doubt of obtain¬ 
ing, should my life be spared, whatever position 
I am capable of filling. 

P. J. R. 

Headquarters Second Corps d’Armee, 
July 24, 1862. 

Dear Major, —Would you like the appointment 
of inspector-general on my staff, with the rank of 
lieutenant-colonel ? If it would suit you, I should 
like to have you take it. The duty will be to 
make frequent inspections of the troops, and to 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


139 


superintend the execution of all orders, and to 
inform me at once whenever they are disobeyed or 
neglected. Very truly yours, 

E. V. Sumner, 

Brevet Major-Gen. U. S. A. 

Major P. J. Revere. 

July 25, 1862. 

Major Gen. E. V. Sumner: 

Dear General,— I have taken the liberty of 
considering one night your most flattering propo¬ 
sition of the appointment on your staff, and for 
the reason that I find myself in a somewhat pe¬ 
culiar position, which I desire to state frankly to 
you. My friends in Massachusetts, at my re¬ 
quest, are making strong efforts to obtain for me 
the command of one of the new regiments. For 
an indorsement of General Dana’s recommenda¬ 
tion for such a command I am indebted to your¬ 
self; and I think you will agree with me, that a 
due consideration for my friends should prevent 
my acceptance of any position, however flattering 
to me, or congenial with my feelings, pending the 
result of their efforts. How soon that result may 
appear, of course depends on the general success 
of recruiting. Once more expressing my appreci¬ 
ation of the flattering nature of your offer, and my 
deep sense of your uniform kindness to and con¬ 
sideration of myself, 

I remain your most obedient servant, 

P. J. R. 


140 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


Camp near James River, Aug. 10, 1862. 

Major, —I am directed by the major-general 
commanding the corps to notify you that he has 
designated you as as the inspector-general of his 
corps d’armee. Allow me to express to you, 
major, my congratulations, and my hope that you 
will soon be able to join us. 

Very respectfully your obedient servant, 

J. H. Taylor, 

Chief of Staff , Q., and A. A. C. 

Wednesday Evening, Aug. 6. 

I write you a few lines tonight, thinking that 
you might see by the papers that our division had 
moved. 

On Monday we were ordered to march at six, 
p. m. We marched all night; and, about six 
o’clock in the morning, came out on the battle-field 
at Nelson’s Farm. From here we marched by the 
same road as before to Malvern Hill, where the 
last of the battles was fought. The enemy was in 
small force, and retired rapidly. There was some 
cavalry skirmishes; and we took a hundred and 
fifty prisoners and some artillery. We halted at 
Malvern in a great field, in front of a large brick 
house, all pretty tired. I had not been very well 
for a few days, and had consequently eaten very 
little; so was pretty well used up with this ex¬ 
cursion. The sun was very hot; and I went up to 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


141 


the house to get in the shade. While there, 
General McClellan and General Sumner arrived. 
General Sumner was not very well. He came 
where I was in the porch of the house, looking for 
a place to lie down. I gave him my coat, and he 
laid down. Soon after he went away, I went to 
get my coat, and remained in the same place. I 
said to Captain Sedgwick I was not well, and, if 
he were in the way of sending any officer to camp 
with orders, to send me. Judge of my amazement 
when, in about three minutes, I found myself con¬ 
fronted by General McClellan, who informed me 
that he had ordered a wagon, which would arrive 
presently, to convey me to camp. I endeavored 
to remonstrate. He told me it was his order, and 
that I need say nothing to the contrary; that I 
should be ill if I tried to stay; and go I must. Of 
course I could do nothing but thank him for his 
kindness, and go. It seemed that Sedgwick was 
saying something to one of General McClellan’s 
staff about me; when the general, hearing my 
name, asked what was the matter, and, on being- 
told, did as I have described. It certainly was 
very kind; was it not? His manner could not 
have been more considerate had I been an intimate 
personal friend. I mounted a very comfortable 
covered wagon, and trotted back to camp. 

P. J. R. 

i, 1 « ■ . : I l 


142 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


The exhausting service told upon Paul. 
The malaria under which so many sank 
rendered him at length unfit for duty; 
and, after the battle of Malvern Hill, 
General Sumner ordered him home on 
sick leave, giving him a furlough of fifteen 
days. It was none too early for him to 
make the change. He was carried on 
board the steamer in waiting by his 
brother, and had not strength during the 
passage to leave the deck. The sea- 
breezes and rest, however, revived him; 
and he arrived at home in Canton about 
the 18th of August, in a fair way to be 
benefited by the pure country air, good 
food, kind nursing, and repose. In ten 
days, though far from well, he was on 
the road back to his post. He returned 
to his place on General Sumner’s staff, 
which he had now been able fully to 
accept. The army had left its position 
on the James River, and was retracing its 
steps to the Potomac. 

Steamer Atlantic, Aug. 27. 

Dear Paul, —We went aboard this steamer 
night before last at Newport News, after quite a 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


143 


long and hard march from Harrison’s Landing. 
The march was much the hardest of any thing I 
have seen: for, although we did not make any 
great distance, the men, when moving, were 
hurried along tremendously; and the artillery, in¬ 
fantry, and baggage-trains, were all moving at the 
same time; and the dust was almost insupport¬ 
able, it being so thick you could not see the men 
three ranks ahead of you. I have been perfectly 
well on the march and have not had the slightest 
touch of diarrhoea, which has troubled almost 
every one else. We have not the remotest idea of 
where we are bound to, but probably to Acquia 
Creek; at any rate, we are on our way up the Po¬ 
tomac, and have not been aground but once, and 
then only for a few minutes. I was very glad to 
hear that you felt so much better, as I could not 
help feeling quite anxious about you. 

We arrived in Alexandria, Thursday, 28th, at 
ten o’clock, all well and safe. 

E. H. R. R. 

General McClellan had been removed 
from command, and General Pope set 
over the Army of the Potomac. The sec¬ 
ond Bull Run battle, disastrous to the 
Union side, again altered the aspect of 
affairs. Our troops in retreat, the rebels 
coming up the valley in force, Washing- 


144 


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ton threatened once more, — it was a 
moment for serious apprehension, when 
confidence needed to be at once restored. 
McClellan was reinstated, and received 
with acclamations by the army, that fol¬ 
lowed him in fine spirits over into Mary¬ 
land to confront Lee, who had crossed the 
river several miles above the city. 

Paul reached Washington on the 1st 
of September, and there learned that his 
corps was in the neighborhood of Centre- 
ville. He writes home, September 2d, 
“ 1 cannot be too thankful for my visit at 
home. Every thing was so bright and 
cheerful! and its being so unexpected 
made it the more satisfactory. It was 
worth being a little sick for. I should 
never have had any impression of our 
dear little girl as a baby but for my visit 
just at that time. I have just met one of 
General Sumner’s staff, who has given us 
a wagon, in which we are going out.” 
Again, on the 4th, he writes, “Hearing 
that the corps was moving, I rode on, and 
came up with General Sumner at Tenally- 
town (if I spell it right), where we now 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


145 


are. We are in a most charming spot, on 
the lawn of a well-kept place, with nice 
grass and shade-trees on very high land 
overlooking the country around Washing¬ 
ton. General Sumner received me very 
kindly, making me feel at home at once. 
I am writing in Washington, where I 
have ridden with General Sumner to-day. 
It is but a few miles’ ride. It seems 
strange to be in Maryland again after so 
long a time of campaigning. But every 
one feels that all will go well since General 
McClellan is to be in command. The 
enthusiasm in the army yesterday, on 
hearing of this, was unbounded. Tired 
as the men were, they fairly howled; and, 
in the hospitals, the wounded raised a 
cheer as well as they could.” 

The 10th of September, his birthday, 
the following letter was written: 

Sept. 10, 1862. 

My Dearest Lu,—I cannot allow my birthday 
to pass without writing you a word; though I have 
not found time to write you through the day. I 
wrote to you from our camp near Rockville on 
Sunday. Yesterday we marched about five miles, 

10 


146 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


and today some three more. I was sent some 
miles to another part of the line after we halted: 
so my day was quite used up. How strange it 
seems that I should find myself, after a year’s ex¬ 
perience of military life, in the very district in 
which I commenced it! I think that I passed my 
last birthday in the road which leads through 
Rockville. When I try to realize the (to me) 
extraordinary experience of the year since then, I 
find it impossible to take it all in, in its details; 
the result, being the strongest impression of the 
utter impossibility of calculating on the future of 
human affairs, and the consequent necessity, since 
we must 4>e interested in the future, from our very 
nature, of having, on the one hand, an abiding 
faith in God’s providence; or, on the other, of 
risking unhappiness in the failure of our plans to 
provide for events which we could not foresee. 
And, when I consider that necessity in relation 
to the present of our affairs, I cannot and do not 
attempt to foresee any thing as to our personal 
future. But remembering that in this past year, 
from events which, had we been able, we could 
only have looked forward to with the greatest 
distress, we have received lessons of more value 
than any possible advantage, I assure you, my 
dear wife, that I have an absolute faith, that, if 
our duty is performed according to our ability, 
the result, though perhaps through tribulation, 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


147 


will be happiness now, or hereafter; and that we 
may be able to perform that duty is my daily 
prayer. 

I must think that we have great cause to be 
thankful that at this time you are so well sit¬ 
uated. You can have little idea of the experi¬ 
ences of people in whose homes the war exists. It 
makes no difference which side is victorious: all 
that they value is destroyed. 

God bless you and our dear children, and give 
us strength to believe that whatever may be before 
us is for our lasting good! Love to all at home. 

P. J. R. 

u This,” his mother says in her jour¬ 
nal, “ was but a week before the battle of 
Antietam, on the 17th of September. 
There, he was wounded, and obliged to 
leave the field, keeping on his horse, and 
passing and stopping to speak with dear 
friends in ambulances” (Sedgwick and 
Dwight) “who would not long survive. 
He reached home on the 20th; believing, 
from the statement of one of the surgeons, 
that his brother, Dr. Revere, was safe on 
duty in the hospital. One hour after his 
arrival in Boston, the news came of his 
brother’s death in the field.” Paul’s 


148 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


account, in a letter he wrote before start¬ 
ing for home, runs thus: “lam writing 
you a few lines, in hope of your receiving 
them in advance of any painful rumors. 
There has been a general engagement of 
a severe nature to-day. The result is not 
yet decided; though I have confidence in 
our being victorious. I have received a 
flesh wound through the arm, just above 
the wrist. It is but a slight affair; no 
bone broken; and not the slightest occa¬ 
sion for anxiety. I did not leave the field 
for several hours after being hit; so you 
may suppose the would was not very 
severe. It is not painful; only stiff and 
lame, as if from a severe blow. I was 
near the Twentieth this afternoon, and 
heard of them from several persons. I 
saw Edward in the forenoon for a moment. 
There are many wounded, and he will 
have his hands full.” But Edward was 
gone,— falling in the midst of the wound¬ 
ed, whom he was caring for in the thick 
of the fight, and in the very act of cheer¬ 
ing on the men near him to another 
charge. 






























li 













EDWARD H. R REVERE 









REVERE MEMORIAL 


149 


EDWARD H. R. REVERE, M. D. 


This excellent surgeon, and brave, 
noble-hearted man, whose death on the 
field of battle, and in the discharge of his 
duty, his friends and the public have 
recently been called upon to lament, was 
born in Boston, July 23,1827. His pater¬ 
nal grandfather was Col. Paul Revere, so 
well known for his patriotic services in 
the Revolution, as well as for his connec¬ 
tion with the mechanic arts of his time. 
His maternal grandfather, whose name 
he bore, was a man of great energy and 
wide influence, and for many years Judge 
of Probate for Norfolk County. He had 
also been Lieutenant - Governor. Dr. Re - 
vere’s early education was had in the 
schools of his native city. He embraced 
the profession of medicine, and took his 
degree at the Medical School of Harvard 
University in 1849. He then went to 
Paris for a year of medical study, and was 
diligent in availing himself of the ad van- 



150 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


tages for improvement which that capital 
offered. Returning home, he engaged in 
the practice of his profession at Green¬ 
field, in this state, where he resided for 
some years. He subsequently removed 
to Canton, where his father had a sum¬ 
mer residence, and where he interested 
himself in various benevolent efforts. 
Impelled by a strong sense of duty, he 
offered his professional services to his 
country soon after the breaking out of the 

war. For this sphere of duty he was 
peculiarly well qualified. Besides his 
professional skill, his courage was of the 
highest temper; his heart was tender and 
kind; and he had the further and most 
important advantage of a powerful frame, 
capable alike of great efforts and great 
endurance. 

He joined the Twentieth Massachu¬ 
setts Regiment on the 17th of September, 
1861; and on the 21st of October he was 
ordered to the battle of Ball’s Bluff. He 

was, through the whole day, the only 
surgeon on the field for a force of fourteen 
hundred men. He was constantly exposed 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


151 


to a shower of bullets, which did not in 
the least discompose him, or interfere 
with the calm and resolute performance 
of his duty. It was mainly owing to his 
exertions that nearly all the wounded 
were removed to the Maryland shore. He 
was taken prisoner at night with Colonel 
Lee, his brother Major Revere, and other 
officers, and endured an imprisonment of 
four months of the most rigorous kind. 
It was born by Dr. Revere with a quiet 
fortitude and uncomplaining cheerfulness, 
which were the result of a strong temper¬ 
ament and a manly heart. During all the 
privations, indignities, and exasperations 
to which he, in companionship with his 
brother officers, was exposed, not an irri¬ 
table word ever escaped his lips. For a 
part of the time, in conjunction with Dr. 
Fletcher of Indiana, he was allowed to 
employ his professional services in aid of 
the sick and wounded Federal prisoners 
in the hospital at Richmond. Here his 
ministrations were most blessed, not 
merely in the direct professional relief 
they afforded, but also in their influence 


152 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


in cheering the desponding, and keeping 
up the spirits of those who were ready to 
despair. He gave efficient aid in remov¬ 
ing two hundred of the prisoners to the 
boats for Fortress Monroe. 

Upon his exchange in February, he 
rejoined his regiment two days before the 
evacuation of Yorktown; went through 
all the subsequent battles; and was 
especially noticed at Fair Oaks for his 
devoted attendance upon the large num¬ 
bers of wounded. During the continuous 
series of battles for seven days consequent 
upon General McClellan’s change of front, 
his exertions were uninterrupted and pro¬ 
digious. He worked literally day and 
night. Nothing but his uncommon phys¬ 
ical energy could have sustained the 
pressure made upon his powers of mind 
and body. 

He went into the battle of Antietam 
as a surgeon, but acted also as an officer 
of the line in keeping up the men to their 
duty. He was shot through the heart, 
and immediately passed from life to death. 
The day was the 17th of September, the 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


153 


anniversary of that on which he joined 
the army. His death was glorious in all 
respects; for it was met on the perilous 
edge of battle, in the calm and fearless 
discharge of his duty. 

As an illustration of his courage, and 
of his forgetfulness of self when in the 
way of his duty, it may be mentioned, 
that, only a few moments before he fell, 
he was observed by one of the officers of 
his regiment to be attending to a wounded 
man upon the ground. While thus occu¬ 
pied, the regiment, which stood within a 
few feet of him, suddenly changed front, 
faced to the rear, and fired a volley over 
his head. He continued his work with¬ 
out a trembling of the hand, and not even 
looking up. 

Dr. Revere married, early in his pro¬ 
fessional life, Miss Laura P. Jordan of 
Canton, a niece of Commodore Downs. 
His widow, and one child, a daughter, 
survive him. 


154 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


Camp near Keedysville, Md. 

Sept 21, 1862. 

I enclose to you several letters received here 
for your brother since the battle; also a small 
package recovered from his body by a lieutenant 
of another regiment. I write in great haste: but 
I must not neglect to tell you how much I, as his 
messmate, with Colonel Lee and Dr. Hayward, 
feel the loss of your brother,—with whom I had 
some college acquaintance, renewed since he was 
with us,—and how much we sympathize with you 
and the others of his family; our regret only tem¬ 
pered by reflecting that he died in a way that will 
make his name one of the brilliant ones in this 
war. The example that he set to devotion to the 
men of his regiment, at the sacrifice of his own 
life, is one that has rarely been set, and cannot 
fail of a wide effect. When I first saw one of our 
wounded officers, almost his first conversation 
about the battle was to express his admiration 
for the bravery of our two surgeons; and he spoke 
of your brother more particularly, whom he 
noticed after the regiment had “faced to the rear,” 
and had thus left him on the side of our lines 
next the enemy, keeping on his labor undisturbed, 
and continuing his attentions to the wounded man 
whom he had at that particular time under his 
charge. Massachusetts may well be proud of her 
surgeons as of her soldiers. 


C. W. F. 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


155 


Edward's Ferry, Oct. 2, 1862. 

I have heard the sad news of Edward’s death; 
and cannot refrain from sending you an expres¬ 
sion of my warmest sympathy, even at the risk of 
intrusion. The surgeon will be a great loss to his 
regiment and to the army, but the genial, kind- 
hearted gentleman even more to his many friends, 
among whom I place myself. The intimate rela¬ 
tions in which we have been placed during the past 
year, and especially during our captivity, have 
made me regard him as more than an acquaint¬ 
ance, and with real friendship. I have heard 
none of the particulars; but I know that he met 
his death in defence of his country as a really 
brave man, as he was, would do,—at his post, in 
performance of his duty. I can only wish we may 
all do our duty as well as he did his. 

0. L. P. 

Bolivar Heights, Harper's Ferry, Oct. 13. 

We were very sorry to lose your brother; but 
we should realize it more if we did not seem to 
have lost everybody. There is nobody left to feel 
a loss, I believe, but myself, out of the old field 
and staff of the once “gay Twentieth.” Colonel 
Lee is commanding the brigade; Major Revere 
removed and promoted; Palfrey severely wounded. 
Your brother received the just reward of his de¬ 
voted services. Dr. Hayward away on sick leave; 
poor Dr. Revere gone! We felt very much the 



15G 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


loss of Dr. Revere, who was killed while so 
bravely attending to wounded in the extreme 
front; in fact, in front of the regiment. Both he 
and Dr. Hayward have the warmest praise from 
all, for their courage and devotedness on that 
field, which exceeded, in the hotness of the fire, by 
far any thing our regiment had ever been exposed 
to. C. W. F. 

We quote once more from his mother’s 
journal: 

u It would be impossible to express the 
enthusiasm of Dr. Revere in administer¬ 
ing to the poor creatures in the Richmond 
hospital, and their response to him from 
the fact that he was a northern physician. 
One of them said, 4 his coming to them 
was like a new sunshine on their misery; ’ 
and many is the man who has called at 
his father’s house to express his gratitude, 
and to say what a blessing he was to 
them. We can look back upon the won¬ 
derful mercies attending our dear Edward 
with more composure after years of sepa¬ 
ration, remembering the compensations 
there were in his own heart. His desire 
of usefulness has been fully answered in 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


157 


that year of great duty, when so many of 
his fellow-creatures were relieved by his 
efforts. He had proved the power that 
was in him, and given assurance of his 
trust in God. I can see the conflicts of 
this world, to him, are well over, and that 
life was swallowed up in victory. His 
large heart could not die; it had ever beat 
with the best and the holiest affections, 
and with a more tender desire to help the 
tempted and sorrowful than is usual to 
man.” 

Extracts from Judge Devens’s re¬ 
sponse at a medical dinner: 

“Alike in the camp, in the hospital, on 
the field, the surgeons shared in every 
toil and every danger; and in those dark 
and dreary hours which occurred more 
than once, when we were compelled to 
abandon our wounded on the field, they 
never hesitated to be taken prisoners with 
their men, although it exposed them to 
months of insult and privation. If I re¬ 
call by name two,— Dr. E. H. R. Revere 
and Dr. S. F. Haven,—it is because they 
were my friends, and not because you had 


158 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


not others, who, like them, nobly sacri¬ 
ficed their lives on the field for the great 
cause for which we fought. Each, if he 
had been content to perform his duty 
only, as the regulations of the army re¬ 
quired it of him, could have remained in 
his hospital at the rear of the line, and 
rendered his services to such as were 
brought to him; but they died in the front 
of the battle, among the men, literally in 
the ranks, where no commander would 
have ordered or even asked them to go; 
so anxious were they to superintend per¬ 
sonally the removal of the wounded, and 
to give not only their faithful but their 
instant aid. When I think of the life and 
death of such men as these, of their high 
devotion to duty, of their faithful guard¬ 
ianship of those under their care, I cannot 
but feel and speak warmly of the medical 
profession.” 

The shock of this unexpected sorrow 
in the loss of Edward was very great to 
Paul. That he should have come away 
without seeing him, or knowing of his 
fate,— leaving him dying or dead,— was a 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


159 


heavy thought at first. Wounded, feeble, 
suffering, this was an added pang. But 
he was the one to break the dreadful news 
to the family, and sustained himself and 
helped them with his usual firmness and 
patience. 

He had hoped not to be detained at 
home for any length of time by his wound. 
He had made light of it in writing to his 
wife; but it proved a more serious matter 
than was then supposed. His former 
debility and his general condition ren¬ 
dered him a bad subject for such an 
experience. There were no serious 
symptoms; but he did not rally. Going 
to Canton, he gave himself up to rest. 
Week after week passed, and his recovery 
was delayed. He went to Boston with 
the family the latter part of October, 
trusting that a week or two would see 
him well. Still he was too feeble, far 
into the winter, to think of returning to 
his army duties. Then malaria showed 
itself with severe rheumatism; and he 
was confined to his room, and part of the 
time to his bed, unable to move. After a 


160 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


weary period of pain and inability, how¬ 
ever, he seemed to revive, and was able 
gradually to move about; and thus slowly 
he recovered sufficiently by the latter part 
of January to imagine he could go back 
to his place in the field. That winter had 
been a dark one for the Union side. The 
repeated changes of commanders, and 
disastrous battles before Fredericksburg, 
had brought the country back to the old 
feeling of uncertainty and apprehension 
which had begun to oppress it before the 
battle of Antietam. Disabled men at 
home longed to be at work. It chafed 
them sorely to read of the losses, and 
think that they were incapacitated and 
idle; but only so because they had not 
spared themselves before, but done so 
much. Paul could not bear to be away a 
moment longer than was absolutely neces¬ 
sary. As soon as he could sit a horse, he 
considered himself fit for any thing, and 
determined on making the trial of his 
strength. His friends saw that it was 
almost an impossibility for him to carry 
out his purpose; and when, having gone 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


161 


as far as Washington, he was obliged to 
return by easy stages, stopping to rest in 
Philadelphia and New York, they were 
not surprised. Weeks went by again of 
varying health. The spring found him 
better; and so impatient was he to be at 
his post, that towards the last of April he 
took another leave of his friends, and 
started with fresh hope for Washington. 
He knew not where he would be assigned. 
In January, his old friend, General Sum¬ 
ner, died. His staff-officers, of course, 
were scattered; and Paul was obliged to 
look for another position. It happened 
at this time that the Twentieth Regiment 
was open to him as colonel. Receiving 
his appointment in Washington, he joined 
the regiment at Falmouth, and was much 
pleased to be again with his old comrades 
and friends, by whom he was gladly wel¬ 
comed. 

His being made colonel brings to mind 
what one of the old friends of the family 
had said, when, two years before, he went 
into the army: “He will come back a 
colonel, like his grandfather” (Col. Paul 

11 


162 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


Bevere). Paul was a person born to 
command; and he filled his office natur¬ 
ally, gracefully, kindly, but with strict¬ 
ness and justice. This will appear more 
forcibly as presented in one or two com¬ 
munications from officers of the Twentieth 
after his death. He believed in discipline; 
but no merit was overlooked. He was 
ready to share in the hardships of the 
camp and march; and he expected others 
to do their full part also, each in his place, 
for the good of the whole. These two 
months—the last of his life — that he was 
in command of his old regiment were 
months of great interest to him. 

Falmouth, Monday, May 11, 1863. 

I write a few lines to tell you of my safe 
arrival here. I came down in the boat, arriving 
at about two o’clock. I found the regiment in the 
town; the officers in a very good house, and very 
comfortable; the weather delightful,—rather 
warm for comfort; the trees in leaf. 

P. J. R. 

May 12, 1863. 

The brigade is under the command of Colonel 
Hall, a most excellent man, a West-Pointer; quite 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


163 


young; that is, under thirty. Nothing is known 
here as to future movements. I am feeling very 
well indeed, and have no doubt that the warm 
weather will eradicate the enemy entirely. There 
is a most astounding number of birds in the trees 
about this house, occassioned, I suppose, by the 
cutting-down of the forest-trees in the neighbor¬ 
hood : some of them are of most beautiful 
plumage. 

P. J. R. 

May 15, 1863. 

The regiment is quartered in the town of Fal¬ 
mouth; and I am living in a very comfortable 
house belonging to one Miss Dunbar, a most rabid 
Southerner, who fully appreciates the fact that a 
woman’s tongue is her only weapon in this con¬ 
test. I called upon her today; and she gave me 
the usual recitation of violated soil, desecrated 
hearthstones, &c. 

The regiment seems very small after seeing the 
Thirty-ninth, but makes up in spirit what it wants 
in numbers. There are very few officers,—about 
one to a company. My horse proves a very good 
one. He is very quiet, and at the same time has 
plenty of spirit if you wish to wake him up. 

I called on General Couch, who received me 
very kindly. He stands very high in the estima¬ 
tion of the army. 


164 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


One can hardly realize the fact of two large 
armies so near each other, every thing is so quiet. 
The pickets have been so long accustomed to seeing 
each other, that they never think of firing: in¬ 
deed, there are to be seen, at any time, squads— 
thirty to forty of them—hauling seines in the 
river, in which they take large number of shad 
and herring. Unfortunately, a general order for¬ 
bids our men to fish, or we might have a plentiful 
supply of fish. It would not be practicable for 
both parties to be at it at the same time; for the 
river is not very wide, and the “rebs” come half 
way across with their seines. 

The opposite bank of the river is much lower 
than our side, which rises into steep hills, inter¬ 
sected by deep ravines running towards the river. 
The other side is quite level for some distance 
from the river, and then rises to a rolling country, 
on the ridges of which are the batteries and rifle- 
pits of the “rebs.” 

Fredericksburg is about a mile below us,—a 
compactly-built town; most of the houses of brick; 
which method of building has saved it from de¬ 
struction, the shot and shell merely making round 
holes in the walls. The place seems pretty well 
deserted, though some of the inhabitants (chiefly 
women) are to be seen moving about. 


P. J. R. 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


165 


May 17, 1863. 

We remain in Falmouth, the regiment quar¬ 
tered in houses; Macy, the surgeons, adjutant, 
Patten, and myself, in the principal house of the 
village. It is really very pleasant. The house is 
surrounded by fine trees; a splendid elm shading 
the end of the house, horse-chestnut trees in front, 
and other large trees in the garden behind. Many 
of the latter have their trunks entirely covered with 
English ivy of many years’ growth. The owner, 
Miss Dunbar, is in the condition that an elderly 
maiden lady, owning a nice house and grounds 
kept with scrupulous care, might be supposed to 
be on having her house taken possession of, and 
her grounds passed through constantly by sol¬ 
diers: and withal, being a rabid Southerner, she 
thinks herself singled out for persecution; the 
fact being, that she has really been treated with 
consideration, in having more than half her house 
left to her exclusive use, with a guard constantly 
before it to prevent intrusion. It is next to im¬ 
possible for a woman to realize the necessities of 
war as any excuse for what seems to her only a 
violation of her individual rights. Could New- 
England people realize what war really is, as 
shown in the experiences of those who inhabit the 
actual theatre of the war, they would hardly think 
and speak as flippantly of its operations as they 
are in the habit of doing. When one is compelled 


166 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


to the conviction that it makes but little difference 
in the case of individual rights, whether a country 
is occupied by friends or foes in time of war, and 
is forced to the reflection of the possibility of such 
occupancy by one or the other, he will be much 
more single-minded in his efforts to bring the war 
to a close by the only means by which it can be 
concluded; that is, directing every effort and every 
thought to the one end of successful fighting. 

I continue very well. Was on duty as general 
officer of the day for twenty-four hours; which 
implies much riding, without particular fatigue. 
The weather has been delightful,—cool and brac¬ 
ing. The trees are filled with birds. A robin is 
looking in at the window from her nest in a tree 
a few feet from me. She has just given her eggs 
a peck, to inquire if they are ready to open; but 
apparently has received an unfavorable response, 
as she has settled back with a most resolute air, 
as if thinking it was not the first time she had 
hatched robins. 

I wonder if young robins ever trouble their 
parents by sucking their thumbs. If I remain 
here, I shall watch to see what the remedy is in 
that case, that it may be applied to a certain 
“chick” of mine should he prove otherwise incor¬ 
rigible. 


P. J. R. 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


167 


May 20 , 1863 . 

When I think of what has been lived through 
by us in the past two years, it seems to me that I 
must be lacking in sensibilty not to feel more 
change in myself. 

Is it that the change in curcumstances has been 
so radical and sudden, that sufficient time has not 
passed to affect our characters, or even to allow us 
to realize fully the events ? or is it that our human 
constitution is such, that Providence has not in¬ 
tended that events should change it, but only 
modify it, and that the change which we are in the 
habit of considering the end of all human experi¬ 
ence may be merely the means of introducing us 
to a new experience in a different and higher life, 
where we may hope to be eventually perfected? I 
love this view of our existence, because I can 
actually realize through it that which is otherwise 
so difficult to take in,—that our present life is but 
a phase of our existence. 

It seems to me that making this not simply a 
belief, but as much a reality to ourselves as that 
we may grow old, or as that any of the experi¬ 
ences that we see other men go through may be 
ours, is the surest means of fitting us for another 
life; for by this habitual contemplation of it, 
coupled with religious faith, we shall get to the 
habit of providing to enter it by the only means 
given us to do so,—fulfilling our duties. To one 


168 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


with whom this habit of really contemplating the 
true relation of the present and future life has 
become fixed, how many of even the severe trials 
he may be called on to meet will appear compara¬ 
tively bearable! To my mind there is contained 
in the consistency between this view (which would 
at first seem calculated to make us to some extent 
indifferent to matters in this life), and the exist¬ 
ence of our human affections the most striking 
evidence of God’s power in adapting us to our 
present existence. 

P. J. R. 

May 27 , 1863 . 

We are still living quietly in Falmouth. This 
life is so comfortable, that it seems impossible 
that it should last. I am writing in a room larger 
than any of those which father thought so large in 
the “Villa,” the windows of which look down the 
river to “Fredericksburg. On looking up, I see 
the “rebs” in considerable numbers loafing up and 
down on the opposite bank of the river. A party 
of about a dozen are just drawing a seine. In the 
last few days they have taken to deserting more 
than usual, coming over singly and in pairs. Be¬ 
tween last evening and this morning, eighteen 
have come over from the troops in and around 
Fredericksburg. For the last ten days they have 
been drawing seines all the time; and the plan 
of escape has been, for any man who wished to 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


169 


desert, to get hold of the end of the seine which 
was to be drawn out, and, when it was at its ex¬ 
treme length, to dive and “put” for our side. The 
guard would be afraid to fire, as so many of their 
men would be in the water that our men could 
shoot a dozen of them before they could get out. 
They confine the fishing to a few selected men 
now. I am about as good as new physically, 
though my long absence from exertion of any kind 
makes work “come hard.” 

It is a great pleasure that Frankie thinks so 
much of me. My stay at home has certainly been 
a great blessing on that account, if no other of 
the many enjoyments I experienced had existed. 
I can’t but feel that such experiences of the en¬ 
joyment we sometimes have in this life as a conse¬ 
quence of suffering (as, in our case, the conse¬ 
quence of my illness) are intended to suggest to 
us the possibility of future happiness, even should 
the general course of our present existence be 
clouded, provided we struggle to do our duty. 

P. J. R. 

Falmouth, Saturday, June 6, 1863. 

I had intended writing a long letter, but have 
been very busy last evening and early this morn¬ 
ing. We had expected to move at daylight; but 
the order was countermanded. Sedgwick’s corps 
threw over bridges below Fredericksburg yester- 


170 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


day, and commenced crossing in the afternoon 
under a fire of artillery from our guns. Nothing 
serious ensued; and as every thing is quiet to-day, 
and our orders to move countermanded, we con¬ 
clude that it was either a feint, or only a recon- 
noissance to ascertain if the enemy were still there 
in force. Every individual “reb” had disappeared 
from the other side of the river this morning. 

P. J. R. 

June 14. 

We have been under marching orders for some 
days, and shall undoubtedly march before morn¬ 
ing. 

June 18. 

We are at Fairfax Station, twenty miles from 
Alexandria. We left our quarters in Falmouth 
just after dark Sunday evening, but remained 
during the night. Got fairly off just after day¬ 
light, the enemy making no demonstration. We 
marched to Acquia Creek. Tuesday, marched 
again to Ocoquan Creek. Wednesday to this 
place,—Fairfax Station. The whole march has 
been extremely severe, the heat and dust intol¬ 
erable. I have never seen so much unfeigned 
suffering during the war. In not a few cases the 
men fell dead by the side of the road. The con¬ 
duct of the troops was beyond all praise. Hardly 
a man was to be found whose feet were not blis- 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


171 


tered, this joined to other causes of suffering; and 
yet they marched hour after hour. Of the Twen¬ 
tieth, every man bearing arms, except twelve, who 
had certificates from the surgeon of being physi¬ 
cally unable to march, answered to their names at 
roll-call one minute after halting. 

P. J. R. 


June 22. 

Friday afternon we marched to Centreville, and 
Saturday to within two miles of Thoroughfare 
Gap, where we now are. The march of Saturday 
was very fatiguing to the men: it rained most of 
the time, and we did not arrive at the camp until 
near midnight. I got on comparatively well: for, 
not feeling well, Dr. Hayward advised me to ride 
in an ambulance; which I did, and so escaped 
much of the fatigue. I am quite well again. On 
our march we passed the Stone house where we 
were confined over night after Ball’s Bluff, and 
where we first received food. It is in the midst 
of the battle-ground of the first Bull Run. 


Monday, June 29. 

We are just outside of Frederick City. We 
have been marching ever since I wrote the last 
letter. 


P. J. R. 


172 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


June 30. 

We are at the town of Union, Md.; where we 
arrived last night after the most tremendous 
march of the war. We left camp at eight a. m., 
and arrived at nine at night; the distance over 
thirty miles. The troops were completely ex¬ 
hausted for the time, but seem made of iron; for, 
after one day’s rest are in as good heart as ever. 
We lost but two men from the regiment from 
dropping out, but had to leave thirteen to be 
brought on in ambulances. The endurance of the 
men was only equalled by their orderly conduct. 
Not a man on the line of our division could be 
seen outside the road, and the temptations were 
unusual. This whole country is one great farm,— 
field after field of crops of every kind; and, at 
every house, plenty of poultry and fresh vege¬ 
tables. The strongest temptation was through 
the cherry-trees: the road was lined with them of 
every variety and in perfection; and yet on we 
marched right under them, leaving them behind. 
I made up for it to-day, being in town where the 
Nineteenth Massachusetts were on guard. I 
found that they had a very long ladder against 
a tree that bore such cherries as you never 
dreamed of. I ascended, and remained as long as 
my capacity for eating held out. Tell father I 
remembered him, and ate a full share for him as 
well as myself. The contrast in the manner of 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


173 


the people here with that to which we have been 
accustomed in Virginia is very pleasing. This 
part of the State is very populous: and, at nearly 
every house, men and women were collected, 
giving water and whatever they had to the troops; 
a most pernicious practice, by the way, as it de¬ 
lays the march, and uses up many men by exces¬ 
sive drinking, though done from the best motives. 
The people were entirely taken by surprise, not 
expecting the army in this direction. They are 
the most thoroughly rural population imaginable. 

We crossed the Potomac at Edward’s Ferry, 
our old place. We camped on the farm adjoining 
our old camp. I rode over there. As you will 
suppose, the visit gave rise to many reflections on 
the events of the two years since I marched from 
it. When we first camped there, the want of good 
water was much felt, and I spent several days 
with a number of men building a well. I went 
to it, and found it in good preservation. The re¬ 
mains of the winter-quarters gave me a good idea 
of their position during the winter. I have some 
dozen blossoms picked there, I will send you. I 
suppose some one has some idea where the enemy 
is; though we know nothing, as no force has been 
met. 

Thursday, July 2. 

We marched yesterday to near Gettysburg; 
and, this morning, moved to rear of the town. 


174 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


Tliere seems a prospect of an engagement. In 
case one should occur, we all hope it may be a 
general one, as, from the position of the armies, it 
seems it must prove decisive. For myself, I feel 
that God will order what is best for us all. May 
he bless you and our dear children and all at 
home! I received Josie’s letter yesterday, with 
our dear little heart’s photograph. He looks 
quite like a man, and old enough to take care of 
his mamma. Tell him I say so, and shall depend 
on his doing so. P. J. R. 

The design of the enemy was for Lee 
to keep Hooker engaged with a portion of 
his force on the east side of the Blue 
Ridge, and with the remainder to cross 
the Potomac in the neighborhood of 
Poolesville, and make a descent on Wash¬ 
ington and Baltimore. 

This plan was frustrated; and the 
whole rebel army pressed forward into 
Maryland and Pennsylvania. 

Our men were not behindhand, and, 
by a shorter line of march, were brought 
up by the first of July before the enemy; 
and then was fought one of the decisive 
battles of the war, at Gettysburg. 



“HIGH WATER MARK OF THE REBELLION.” GETTYSBURG 
The boulder to the right of the cannon’s mouth marks the position of the Twentieth Massachusetts Regiment 
























REVERE MEMORIAL 


175 


Here it was —where the tide of inva¬ 
sion and disaster was turned, and Lee led 
off his troops, broken and defeated, leav¬ 
ing a third of his force in our hands, or 
among the dead — that the end came, in 
the moment of triumph, to Colonel Re¬ 
vere. He was wounded at three o’clock, 
p. m., July 2d. His regiment was in 
advance, lying on the ground. He rose a 
little to reconnoitre or give an order, and 
received a mortal wound. He was imme¬ 
diately carried off the field, and soon 
conveyed to the division hospital in 
Gettysburg, where he lingered until six 
o’clock in the afternoon of the 4th. His 
servant was with him; and he received 
devoted attentions from the surgeon of 
his regiment, Dr. Hayward. He desired 
a telegram to be sent home at once, telling 
of his fall, and saying, u Come quickly.” 
But it was too late. When his brother 
and sister and his wife arrived, they only 
learned that he was dead. His body was 
brought home, and buried by the side of 
his brother Edward at Mount Auburn. 
His mother’s record of his death in her 


176 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


journal is simply this, U A battle took 
place on the 2d of July, in which Paul 
was mortally wounded at the head of his 
regiment, and survived until the 4th, hear¬ 
ing of the victory, and rejoicing in it. The 
shouts roused him, and he asked which 
side had won the day. They told him 
ours. His eye lighted up with gratitude, 
and he sunk into unconsciousness.” And 
afterwards she writes of the loss of her 
two sons, “The lesson has been widely 
different from what we expected; and we 
know we have had no peculiar claim to so 
much blessing. Now the chief object is 
to be cheerfully resigned to the will of 
God; to treasure the recollection of their 
strong, dutiful lives, and the hope that 
the discipline they endured had fitted 
them to ascend to a more perfect happi¬ 
ness and a better development; and to 
remember the high motives that led them 
to leave so much they had to live for at 
home, to give themselves for what they 
thought the benefit of mankind. It was 
a willing sacrifice, and, I trust, acceptable 
to God. They knew the risk they ran. 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


177 


They knew they carried with them our 
heart’s blood. But the conflict must be 
met. It was their duty to aid in it. The 
claim on them was as strong as on any, 
and gallantly they answered it. Can I 
doubt that it was the gracious Providence 
of God that raised them above the mere 
indulgence of this world’s happiness, and 
that closed their lives for some heavenly 
purpose?” 

One word, in conclusion, with regard 
to Colonel Revere’s religious character, 
the source of his highest excellence, and 
the most shining mark of his attainment. 
It has been seen, that, from his boyhood, 
he had been governed by right principles, 
and the desire of all things good. His 
manhood developed admirable virtues; 
and so it was, when trials came, that he 
looked above, and felt his only stay was 
in the help of Heaven. Religious senti¬ 
ments and habits grew stronger with his 
enlarged experience. The sense of living 
in the sight of God, under His care, and 
with His aid, became constant and pre¬ 
vailing. On his return from Richmond, 

12 


178 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


where he had endured so much, and man¬ 
ifested a spirit equal to his lot, and where 
the word of the Lord and prayer had daily 
given him strength, and brought the light 
of a better world to all within that narrow 
cell, he connected himself, as a communi¬ 
cant, with the Church, saying that he 
could never go away again, that he could 
not meet the new perils in his path, with¬ 
out first taking this important step. This 
was no sudden conviction, brought to pass 
by strange events, but the sober result of 
long deliberation. A natural reserve 
made him slow of speech upon these sub - 
jects; but it was from the fulness of his 
heart that he came to the Lord’s table, as 
he had hitherto been walking by the 
Lord’s side. That he thought deeply and 
seriously upon such matters is plain from 
the following extract from one of his last 
letters, with which this sketch will be 
brought to a close: “ Is it,” he writes, 
“ that our human constitution is such that 
Providence has not intended that events 
should change, but only modify it; and 
that the change which we are in the habit 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


179 


of considering the end of all human ex¬ 
periences may be merely the means of 
introducing us to a new experience in a 
different and higher life, where we may 
hope to be eventually perfected? I love 
this view of our existence, because I can 
actually realize through it that which is 
otherwise so difficult really to take in,— 
that our present life is but a phase of our 
existence. It seems to me making this 
not simply a belief, but as much a reality 
to ourselves as that we may grow old, or 
that any of the experiences we see other 
men go through may be ours, is the surest 
means of fitting us for another life; for 
by this habitual contemplation of it, 
coupled with religious faith, we shall get 
to the habit of providing to enter it by the 
only means given us to do so,— fulfilling 
our duties.” 


The following tribute from one, who, 
from constant association with Colonel 
Revere since the regiment left the State, 
most fully appreciated his rare and noble 


180 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


qualities,* met with a warm response from 
every officer: 

u To the list of the original officers 
now lost to this regiment (some by death, 
some by disability from sickness or 
wounds, and others by promotion in 
regiments of later enlistment) Gettysburg 
has added the name — 

Col. PAUL J. REVERE. 

“The officers remaining cherish the 
remembrance of their respected names. 
With regret for the absent, and sorrow 
for the dead, is also felt pride in their 
career, and gratitude for their services. 

“Colonel Revere’s strong character 
exerted an influence upon the regiment 
that is still felt. Brave, chivalrous, self- 
sacrificing, gentle, and generous, he set a 
noble example of private virtues; and in 
the establishment and discipline of the 
regiment his force impressed both officers 
and men. The worthy possessed in him 
a friend upon whom to repose an absolute 
trust; the unworthy found him a stern and 

* Dr. Hayward. 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


181 


contemptuous adversary. His discipline 
was severe, but not debasing; manly sen¬ 
timents were encouraged, not repressed. 
By its means, self-respect was fostered in 
the minds of the aspiring, and begotten 
where it did not exist. It was demon¬ 
strated that discipline should be essential, 
not merely formal; that obedience, cor¬ 
rectness, and zeal were qualities not of 
external and superficial value alone, for 
the improvement of the machinery of the 
service, but that the man himself was to 
be benefited by the observance; that it 
was for his own advantage, and to his own 
credit, that discipline was to be exercised; 
that the fear of punishment was a low 
motive, only to be appealed to when higher 
motives failed; but, if they failed, the 
alternative, ignoble and disagreeable as it 
was, would be inevitable. 

“Military discipline involves submis¬ 
sion on the part of inferior, and authority 
on that of superior; any other than such 
relations are incompatible with the fact 
and the idea of discipline. But the mo¬ 
tives for the exercise of authority and 


182 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


obedience may be as diverse as Christi¬ 
anity and Paganism. While the forms 
remain the same, obedience may be con¬ 
scious opposition to law; be rendered 
from fear, or exacted by force; this is 
destructive of individuality in the man, is 
slavish and unchristian. Authority may 
be used selfishly, and without reference to 
law; this is tyranical and unchristian. 
On the other hand, obedience should be 
rendered by voluntary self sacrifice to the 
law, and authority exercised with equal 
abnegation of self; this is enobling, loyal, 
and Christian; and this was the discipline 
of Colonel Revere. 

“While, with Roman justice, Colonel 
Revere would not spare the incorrigible 
villain, his support was always ready for 
the weak; and the sick and suffering 
would be attended by him with the gen¬ 
tleness of a father. He was warmly 
attached to his regiment, and even when 
absent from it, in the summer of 1862, as 
corps inspector on General Sumner’s staff, 
he still loved to be near it; and at Antie- 
tam he rode against the enemy, and was 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


188 


wounded in front of its advancing line. 
His health had been permanently impaired 
by confinement as a prisoner-of-war in 
Richmond; but his stanch endurance 
would not succumb to his disease. In 
sickness, as in health, he was still the 
cheerful and dauntless Christian soldier. 
Gettysburg has cost his regiment a deeply 
respected and beloved commander; and 
Massachusetts has lost a citizen worthy of 
that name (proeclare et verierabile nomen!) 
Paul Revere.” 

From a Brother Officer 

(F. W. Palfrey) 

“The death of Colonel Revere is at 
once a heavy affliction to his family and 
his friends, and a public calamity. Few 
men have enjoyed a larger share of the 
regard of those who have known them; 
and it is safe to say, that, of those who 
have gone to the war from Boston, no one 
was more valuable than he. His friends 
know too well the loss they have sustained 
in losing him to need a public tribute to 
the many qualities that have won for him 


184 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


their respect, their admiration, and their 
love. He has done and suffered more 
than most men for the cause; and at last, 
when the hour of victory was near, he has 
died the death of a soldier, and at the head 
of his tried and trusty regiment. It is 
fitting that all should know the military 
history of such a man; and to contribute 
to that end this sketch is written. 

u In the summer of 1861 he accepted 
the position of major in the Twentieth 
Regiment of Massachusetts Volunteers, 
and employed himself with energy and 
success in raising and disciplining that 
regiment. He marched with it to the field 
in the month of September of the same 
year. Drill and light picket duty occupied 
the following weeks; and Major Revere 
devoted much of his leisure time to ac¬ 
quainting himself with the topography of 
the country about his camp, and to labori¬ 
ous and patient observation of the position 
and works of the hostile forces on the 
farther side of the Potomac. Nature had 
bestowed upon him in a peculiar degree 
the faculty which is known as an ‘ eye for 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


185 


country; ’ and his tastes had led him f re - 
quently, in earlier years, to the hunting 
grounds which border our northern lakes, 
and there he had made much progress in 
woodcraft. In his new position he was 
always eager to extend this knowledge, 
and turn it to account, and always study¬ 
ing to bring the coup d'oeil militaire to 
perfection. The fortune of war speedily 
and suddenly removed him from the scene 
of his usefulness, and substituted the 
narrow walls of a prison for the lovely 
scenery of the Upper Potomac. The 
story of Ball’s Bluff is too familiar to 
need a repetition, and the manly part 
which Major Revere took in that struggle 
is well known. But it may be well to 
state, that, of the scanty transportation 
by which our forces crossed to the Vir¬ 
ginia shore, a material portion was due to 
his forethought and energy. He sug¬ 
gested the transfer of a boat from the 
Maryland to the Virginia side of Harri¬ 
son’s Island by water, and himself saw 
that the long and laborious effort was 
made and carried out 


186 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


4 4 In less than two months from the time 
when Major Revere went from Massachu¬ 
setts to the field, he was a wounded pris¬ 
oner in Richmond; and it was not much 
later that the stern policy of the Southern 
government demanded hostages for the 
captured privateersmen, and it was his 
lot to go into close captivity. The suffer¬ 
ings of those long and dreary months were 
borne by him with fortitude and patience; 
but it was thought by his comrades that 
he was never the same man again. His 
spirit was unchanged; but the strong 
constitution seemed to have been weak¬ 
ened by his long confinement, and the 
tough frame was less enduring of the 
trials and exposures of the peninsular 
campaign. 

44 Major Revere rejoined his regiment 
just in time to march with them into the 
abandoned works at Yorktown. In the 
following week he rendered efficient 
service wherever there was work for him 
to do; and the thin remnant of those 
who served with him then will remem¬ 
ber the energy and thoroughness with 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


187 


which he led the skirmishers through the 
woods and swamps which edged the 
Chickahominy, and how gallantly he 
played his part, and how clearly his voice 
rang, on that dark afternoon when Sum¬ 
ner met the rebel left as it swung round at 
Fair Oaks, and the Twentieth first had 
its revenge for Ball’s Bluff, and took pris¬ 
oners from eleven of the thirteen States 
of the Confederacy. There was fighting 
often in those days, and dangerous and 
fatiguing outpost duty. In all these 
scenes, in battle and skirmish, on the 
picket-line and in camp, Major Revere 
showed himself the faithful, the conscien¬ 
tious, the gallant soldier. But it was in 
the hard battle of Glendale, on the 30th 
of June, 1862, that Major Revere first had 
an opportunity to show, on a larger scale, 
his value as a soldier and his fitness for 
high command. On that day, when 
McCall’s division had been driven from 
their position, with heavy loss of men 
and guns, and the enemy seemed near to 
piercing our centre, and cutting off a large 
portion of our army, Sedgwick’s division 


188 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


did much towards restoring the battle. 
Major Revere was detailed for staff duty 
that afternoon, and it is hard to estimate 
his services too highly. His activity was 
unremitting, his gallantry conspicuous, 
and his quick and trained eye ever ready 
to see what needed to be seen, at those 
critical moments. He worked as few men 
can work, in conducting ready regiments 
to the points where they were needed, and 
in stimulating the unready by every influ - 
ence which only the true soldier can exert. 
He had two horses shot, and was severely 
bruised by the fall of one, as he strove to 
leap it wounded, across a ditch where he 
felt that he must go. For his gallant 
services General Sedgwick made special 
mention of him. 

“In the long trial of the seven-days’ 
battles, Major Revere showed, in an emi¬ 
nent degree, the virtue of cheerful forti¬ 
tude. Those who have not seen hard 
service do not know the worth of this, 
nor how comparatively rare it is. When 
the frame is worn by excessive fatigue, 
and exhausted by want of food and sleep, 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


189 


and the mind is kept on the stretch by the 
severest excitement and anxiety which 
man can experience, many a gallant sol¬ 
dier becomes depressed; and the dispiri¬ 
ted countenance and the discouraged 
speech exert an injurious influence upon 
all around. Those who fought their way 
from the lines before Richmond to James 
River, last summer, know how much 
harm came from this cause; and those 
who saw Major Revere know that none of 
this harm came from him. He always 
appeared cheerful and hopeful, and in so 
bearing himself he did more service, and 
showed more of the true spirit of the sol¬ 
dier, than men can do and display by 
gallantry amid the stirring excitement of 
the battle-field. 

“In the sultry camp at Harrison’s 
Landing, Major Revere languished. The 
effects of prison life seemed to show them¬ 
selves, and his frame seemed shaken by 
his fall at Glendale. He crept out with 
the regiment to Malvern Hill when our 
forces retook it in August; but there his 
manifest unfitness for the field attracted 


190 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


the attention of General Sumner, and that 
kind-hearted officer at once ordered him 
to the rear, and gave him leave of absence. 

“ He returned to the field in September, 
but not now as major of the Twentieth. 
He came back as inspector-general of the 
Second Corps, on the staff of General 
Sumner, with the rank of lieutenant- 
colonel. He rode by the side of General 
Sumner into the field of blood at Antie- 
tam, where, in thirty minutes, fifty-five 
per cent of Dana’s brigade of Sedgwick’s 
division were shot down. Here, as every¬ 
where, he did good service, till a wound 
disabled him, and sent him to the rear, 
not knowing that his brother, a brave and 
devoted surgeon, lay on the same field, 
shot through the heart. 

u His recovery from his wound was at 
first rapid; but afterwards he was attacked 
by rheumatic pains, which caused him 
cruel sufferings, and for a long time kept 
him from the field. As soon as he was 
fit to go back, and, as many thought, be¬ 
fore he was fit, he reported for duty again. 
His old chief, General Sumner, who ever 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


191 


showed special regard for him, was dead; 
and there was no place for him on the 
staff of the new commander of the corps. 
Under these circumstances, he was ap¬ 
pointed to the command of his old regi¬ 
ment, and by the side of his companions 
in so many fights, on the 2d of July, 1863, 
he received the wound of which he died 
two days after, when the country for 
which he had given his life was rejoicing 
over her dear-bought victory. 

“ His life was honorable, his death was 
glorious; but he leaves us in deep sorrow 
for his loss. His tall and manly form is 
laid to rest in Mount Auburn, but the 
memory of his virtues remains. As long 
as those who have known him shall be on 
earth, there will be a place in their hearts 
for the true friend, the gallant and consci¬ 
entious soldier, the accomplished Chris¬ 
tian gentleman.” 

From an Old Friend and Schoolmate 

(Edward Ellerton Pratt) 

u The death of Col. Paul J. Revere, 
who was mortally wounded in the recent 


192 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


battle at Gettysburg, has brought forth in 
this community, where he was so well 
known, an expression of the esteem in 
which he was held for his high and lofty 
character, his unbending rectitude, his 
noble courage, and his undying patriot¬ 
ism. All these traits of his character 
were so well known, and so cordially 
assented to, that it is needless to dwell 
upon them. Of these we have already 
spoken; but it is of his characteristics — 
exhibited rather in the private circle than 
to the public, to his intimates rather than 
to his acquaintances—that we propose to 
say a few words. 

44 When a boy, in that truest of repub¬ 
lics, the playground, his companions 
instinctively recognized in him a leader. 
There that keen sense of justice, which 
seemed to be part and parcel of him, was 
so conspicuous, that he was the well- 
known umpire in the boyish disputes of 
his companions; and we fondly recall the 
often used expression, 4 I’ll leave it to 
Paul,’—an arbitration which was, we 
believe, always assented to by the other 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


193 


party to the dispute; and we may add, 
that we do not remember one case where 
the equity of his decision was not acknowl¬ 
edged and supported by the majority of 
his playmates. The same justice that he 
accorded to others, he demanded, always 
firmly, sometimes sternly, should be 
shown to him. This sense of justice was 
never in the least degree blunted; and we 
have yet to meet the first one who denied 
it to him,— say, rather, who did not 
cheerfully acknowledge it to be his. 

“ He was the most manly of men we 
have ever known. We never knew him 
to even approach the doing of an unmanly 
or dishonorable act; but we have heard 
him stigmatize the doing of such by oth¬ 
ers, even when by his speech he incurred 
considerable risk, and could hope for no 
gain. 

u He was, too, one of the sweetest and 
most cheerful-tempered men we ever met. 
We have never, during an acquaintance 
of more than twenty years, seen him so 
angry as to lose his self-control; never, 
under the most vexatious circumstances, 

13 


194 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


have known him to be peevish or frac¬ 
tious ; but we have known him when the 
blood was cool, after a sharp controversy, 
own to his adversary that probably he 
had, in the heat of the moment, spoken 
more harshly than he meant, and ask his 
pardon; which is of so rare occurrence 
that it deserves to be recorded of him. 
This never-failing cheerfulness was par¬ 
ticularly conspicuous when he languished 
so many dreary months in the prison at 
Richmond, after his capture at the battle 
of Ball’s Bluff. There he exerted the 
utmost faculties of his mind and body to 
impart hope and cheerfulness to his 
desponding companions in misfortune; 
and when they were allowed, every now 
and then, a brief space to breathe a purer 
air than that of their prison-house, he 
devoted himself to running and leaping, 
and other athletic exercises, that he 
might, as he said, retain sufficient ani¬ 
mal vigor to enable him to cheer up the 
drooping ones around him. 

“We think we speak the exact truth, 
when we say, that, dying, he has not left 
a single enemy behind him. 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


195 


“We have not thought to write his 
eulogy. Let that be done by other and 
by abler hands. It is ours only to con¬ 
dense into a few lines the thoughts that 
would fill a volume; to say that we loved 
him, that we honored him, and that he 
was worthy of any man’s or any woman’s 
love and honor. Playmates at school, 
classmates at college, friends always, we 
always found him true, honest, loyal, and 
manly, and believe others have found him 
the same.” 

From a Brother Officer 

(C. L. Peirson) 

u Paul had such a large circle of friends 
that I was only one of many; but I so 
valued his friendship, that his loss will 
never be supplied to me. He was my 
beau ideal of the soldier, the gentleman, 
and the man of character. I have every 
reason to know his virtues; for I saw him 
under every form of trial. He never did 
any thing except from principle. I re¬ 
member one conversation we had together. 
We were speaking of the war and its con- 


196 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


sequences; and I was regretting that the 
time was all lost to those who did not 
intend to make the army their profession, 
but who had a name and place to get in 
civil life. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘if this world 
were all.' And I felt rebuked for my com¬ 
plaint. He added, that he thought this 
opportunity to stand up for right and 
truth was something to be thankful for; 
that he was more grateful to his grand¬ 
father for the good name he had handed 
down to him than if he had left him un¬ 
told wealth. He felt that he owed it to 
his children to leave them a name that 
some day they might be proud of; and 
that these sacrifices and labors we were 
making were golden opportunities, and 
not losses. Such conversations between 
us were not rare; and can you wonder 
that I deeply felt the influence, and now 
the loss, of such a friend? I know that 
those of us who remain in the army are 
liable to meet a similar fate. I have often 
considered the possibility of it, and I 
would not murmur if I knew it to be a 
certainty, could I be sure of leaving be- 



REVERE MEMORIAL 


197 


hind me so pure a record as that of Paul 
Revere.” 

Extracts from Letters from an Offi¬ 
cer in the Twentieth 

(C W. Folsom) 

“ I wanted to write and tell you how 
much we all, and I in particular, missed 
your brother. I had never known him 
intimately till his return the last time, 
when we messed together, although 
peculiarly attracted to him from first 
acquaintance, by a certain similarity of 
taste for outdoor matters and for wood¬ 
land life, which he had so strong a relish 
for. The more I saw of army matters 
and of him, the more I recognized his 
remarkable fitness for a leader, and how 
he would have adorned a service which so 
often gives rather than receives a lustre. 
Just as in other walks of life, the army 
shows its share of selfishness and un¬ 
worthy motives; but your brother always 
seemed above all such aims, and seemed 
to feel the necessity of elevating the char¬ 
acter of the profession. He was always 


198 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


considerate, thoughtful, and moderate; 
and I always went to him, sure that his 
head and heart would both give their due 
weight to his decisions. We did not real¬ 
ize, till we had lost him, how much we 
were going to lose; but I think, had he 
lived, there would have been no limit to 
the distinction he might have attained, 
but in his own ambition.” 

From the Same 

u I would have spent six months in the 
old Richmond jail, as Paul Revere did, 
willingly, if so I could have warded off 
the death that too surely took him and 
Henry Ropes on the 2d and 3d. Colonel 
Revere lived until the 4th. He was struck 
by a canister-shot through the lungs. 
Both were men of the very highest type 
of calm, principled bravery that New 
England furnishes, and the very embodi¬ 
ment of knightly and Christian chivalry. 
Revere was a calm, thoughtful, judicious 
man, shrewd, but remarkably straight¬ 
forward and sincere. He was a little 
reserved in manner, and sometimes stern 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


199 


in speech, but as kind as a woman. Gen¬ 
eral Sumner’s inspector-general, and a 
favorite with him, shows his calibre and 
tone. There seems to be no limit to the 
usefulness in after-life of such men as 
Revere and Ropes, with their principles 
and with their natural talents brought out 
and sharpened, in the peculiar direction 
which army life gives.” 

From the Same 

“ You remember Dr. Revere,— that he 
lost his life by going to the very front, 
with the most heroic self-devotion and 
noble courage, and the most brave and 
chivalrous interpretation of the orders to 
the surgeons? Revere was in the midst 
of his humane work when he fell.” 

From a Cousin 

(A. S. Robbins) 

July 16, 1863. 

“Dear, glorious Paul, with all life could 
give, for him I feel no regret. His beau¬ 
tiful spirit has gone to a brighter home. 
His work was done, his discipline com- 


200 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


plete; and his reward could no longer be 
withheld. But for you all (for us all, for 
I, too, had a sense of right in Paul, a pride 
in that he was, what he was, a depend¬ 
ence, that, when need came, he would 
help me as he had done) his departure 
seems a gap never to be made good, an 
emptiness and desolation that is over¬ 
whelming to think of. Human words 
seem empty, and mock this bitter heart¬ 
ache at such a time. I can only sorrow 
for you, and hope and pray God will send 
you peace and help to bear this great 
burthen he has seen best to lay upon you. ’ ’ 

Beverly Farms, July 12, 1863. 

My Dear Sir,— Mrs. Sprague and I cannot re¬ 
frain from expressing to you and Mrs. Revere our 
heartfelt sympathy in this your second great be¬ 
reavement. We have known what it is to lose a 
beloved son just entering upon manhood, and have 
felt that grief which none but a parent can feel. 

You have every consolation which such an 
affliction admits. Both your noble sons fell on 
the field of successful battle, in a righteous cause, 
—a cause of justice, freedom and humanity, and 
all the blessings of good government. If the 
prophet had lent his chariot of fire and his horses 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


201 


of fire, their ascent could hardly have been more 
glorious. Their names will be most honorably 
associated with the great battles of Antietam and 
Gettysburg, and will be a noble inheritance to 
their children and grandchildren forever. But 
we feel how feeble are even these consolations, and 
how little an affliction like yours can be alleviated 
by any considerations which belong only to earth 
and time. Our consolations and hopes must be 
drawn from heaven and eternity, from the infinite 
but inscrutable goodness of God. 

Most sincerely your friend, 

P. Sprague. 

New-York Tribune, July 14, 1863 

u The graceful, gallant Paul Revere has 
fallen. I have just returned from the 
funeral. Owing to the shattered state of 
his father’s health, broken by the fall of 
a second son in this war, the funeral was 
private and unannounced; but not even 
the fear of intruding kept away the throng 
who would not suffer that the favorite, 
the flower, of our noble youth, should go 
to his grave unattended. 

‘ ‘ Paul Revere was more like one of 
the ‘gentle knights’ of Spenser’s ‘Fairy 


202 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


Queen’ (all courtesy, honor, affection, 
and magnanimity) than like even the 
worthiest, cleverest, and bravest of this 
generation; handsome, sensitive, affec¬ 
tionate, and courteous, with that kind of 
courage which we call knightly , from our 
ideal of the hero who dislikes and despises 
violence and brute force for its own sake, 
but worships honor, and cannot do or 
suffer or permit any thing that conflicts 
with that, or that does injury to the just 
rights or feelings of another. At school, 
in college, in society, around the family 
hearth, in the camp, on the field of battle, 
in prison a hostage for threatened lives, 
he was always the same. All knew what 
he would do and say. The highest and 
best was expected of him; and he always 
did and said what satisfied the noblest 
aspirations. 

“Colonel Revere left more, and put 
more at risk, than most men in this war. 
He had wealth, friends, favor, social posi¬ 
tion, the charm of a young wife and a 
newly-planted family hearth; and he was 
drawn by no attraction of public office or 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


203 


a political future. Yet, with all his charm 
and beauty, he has had a very hard lot in 
his military life. His first battle was the 
disaster of Ball’s Bluff, where his regi¬ 
ment (the Twentieth Massachusetts, of 
which he was then major) lost heavily, 
and behaved nobly, and where so many 
of his friends fell killed or wounded 
around him. Then, for many months, 
he suffered the weariness and disgust of 
close confinement in a felon’s cell at 
Richmond, where he and his colonel were 
held as hostages for the rebel privateers, 
whom the United-States court had con¬ 
victed as pirates, knowing that death by 
the hangman was his possible fate by the 
news of any day’s mail. After release 
and exchange came the campaign on the 
James River, and the well-fought fields, 
fevers, retreats, and evacuations. The 
first successful battle, the first gleam of 
sunshine, was at Antietam, where he was 
on General Sumner’s staff, and compli¬ 
mented for his gallantry; but there he 
received a severe wound, which gave him 
a long winter of pain and seclusion. 


204 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


Scarcely recovered, promoted to the com¬ 
mand of his old regiment, the Twentieth, 
he received his death-wound in the first 
successful battle of this campaign.” 

The Christian Witness and Church 
Advocate, July 24, 1863 

“Died from wounds received in the 
battle of Gettysburg, Paul Joseph Revere, 
colonel of the Twentieth Massachusetts 
Regiment. 

“Born to a heritage of honorable mem¬ 
ories bequeathed him by actors in the 
drama of our war for independence, Col¬ 
onel Revere, from the start, gave himself 
to the support of our new struggle for 
nationality. True always to his deliber¬ 
ate convictions of what the crisis de¬ 
manded of him as a son of the republic, 
he has now given his all to the holy cause 
which he espoused; and few had more to 
give. As major of the Twentieth at Ball’s 
Bluff, he bore himself with a coolness 
marked even among the brave men who 
suffered on that perilous day, and in the 
retreat, after all relief had failed, became 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


205 


a prisoner. Subjected to the rigors of a 
Richmond prison, and for several months 
put in close and cruel confinement as a 
hostage for the safety of rebels in the 
hands of our government, with all the 
anxieties of his uncertain position he bore 
himself with the calmness which was 
always a quality of his life. Released, he 
returned to his post, and served with his 
regiment in the peninsular campaign. He 
came out from under the wasting fires of 
some of its most sanguinary days, wounded 
and with impaired health, but with a new 
lustre of courage and conduct in the eyes 
of those with whom he served. 

“Invited to General Sumner’s staff at 
Antietam, exposed to the hottest fire in 
the division which that day immortalized 
itself with victory, he escaped death to 
fall in the Friday’s fight at Gettysburg. 

u Colonel Revere was a man of singu¬ 
larly winning ways and qualities. Under 
manners almost womanly in their gentle¬ 
ness and delicacy, and a reserve with 
most men which was almost taciturn, he 
held a calm, resolute courage, self-reliance 


206 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


and unwavering constancy in behalf of 
any cause he felt to be right and hon¬ 
orable. Possessing the instincts of a 
gentleman, his intercourse with all was 
charitable and gentle; and what he was 
he carried with him into the scenes of 
war, where so much of the best in men 
so often seems to disappear. 

“ His is a simple, an honorable, a most 
pathetic story. Two sons lie together in 
our Mount Auburn,— one who died at 
Antietam in the maddest hour of that 
terrible day, and one not quite a year 
after, dead in the same army, on the soil 
of Pennsylvania, and in the same holy 
cause. The same sorrow falls upon the 
same hearts; and the same cross must be 
lifted up again by men and women who 
miss in this life the loyal, the brave, the 
beloved. So closes another grave in 
peace, though the end was stormy. May 
God give to those who bow over it in 
agony his peace, and may all, who mourn, 
find their friend in their Redeemer!” 





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TREES ON ITS IMMEDIATE RIGHT TO ASSIST IN REPELLING THE CHARGE OF 
LONGSTREET’S CORPS 

THIS TABLET IS PLACED BY THEIR COMRADES IN HONOR OF 
COLONEL PAUL JOSEPH REVERE 

FIRST LIEUTENANT HENRY ROPES SECOND LIEUTENANT SUMNER PAINE 
AND FORTY-ONE ENLISTED MEN 
WHO WERE KILLED OR MORTALLY WOUNDED 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


207 


New-York Herald, July 18, 1863 

“ Colonel Revere, who died recently at 
Gettysburg, Penn., from wounds received 
at the battle of Gettysburg, was a grand¬ 
son of Paul Revere of Revolutionary 
fame, and has been connected with the 
army since the outbreak of the Rebellion. 
At the time he joined the Tweniieth Regi¬ 
ment of Massachusetts Volunteers, he was 
a resident of Boston, and on the 1st of 
July, 1861, was elected its major. The 
regiment was recruited in Boston, and 
left the State September 4,1861. It bore 
a prominent part in the battle of Ball’s 
Bluff, October 21, 1861, during which 
Major Revere was taken prisoner, and 
confined for months as a hostage in a cell 
in the Richmond jail. Major Revere was 
finally released, and returned to his regi¬ 
ment on the peninsular on the 1st of May, 
1862; and the flag of the Massachusetts 
Twentieth Volunteers was among those 
that were planted on the fortification of 
Yorktown, that regiment having been 
among the first to advance upon the works. 


208 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


The Twentieth was next attached to 
Franklin’s command, and Major Revere 
took part in the affair of West Point, May 
7, 1862. On the 31st of May he was en¬ 
gaged with the re-enforcements sent to 
the support of General Casey’s repulsed 
division, and arrived on the field at about 
five, p. m. The regiment had been placed 
in readiness to charge upon the enemy, 
merely awaiting the final order, when 
news came that the enemy’s line had been 
broken amid great confusion. He also 
took part in the seven-days’ battles in the 
latter end of June, 1862, but more espe¬ 
cially at Savage’s Station and Nelson’s 
Farm. At the battle of Malvern Hill, 
July 1, the regiment took no active part, 
but was under fire all day. It formed part 
of Hooker’s reconnoitring force on August 
4, and, during the evacuation of the penin¬ 
sular, formed a portion of the rear guard. 
During the retreat of Pope’s army, the 
Twentieth held a position a few miles be¬ 
yond Fairfax Court-house, and brought 
up the rear of the column the evening of 
September 1,1862. From the commence- 


REVERE MEMORIAL 


209 


ment of the seven-days’ contest until this 
elate, Major Revere was acting lieutenant - 
colonel, the colonel being in command of 
a brigade. About this time, Major Revere 
was detached from the regiment, and 
appointed assistant inspector - general, 
with the rank of lieutenant-colonel, dat¬ 
ing from August 20, 1862. With this 
rank and position he took part in the 
Maryland campaign, and in the battle of 
Antietam, where he was wounded, and 
his brother, Dr. E. H. R. Revere, was 
shot through the heart, and killed; and 
in the battle of Gettysburg he received 
the wound which caused his death. Col¬ 
onel Revere was noted for his gallantry 
and daring, as well as his military skill; 
and his death will be greatly regretted not 
only by his friends, but by every member 
of his late command.” 










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